I Knew I Loved You
by withoutapast
Summary: Izzie is a little bit broken and she can't cope alone. However, given the alternative, she's wishing she could. McStizzie.
1. Not That Kind Of Girl

**Disclaimer**: Really? If I owned any of this, you'd be watching it not reading it. Anywho, I own nothing, Shonda and ABC own all.

**Summary**: McStizzie (or as I fondly refer to it as – McSizzlie) yumminess. There may be some MerDer, Bang, and Addisex, but only in the background if at all. Oh and this takes place kind of in conjunction with the current (albeit ended) season, with one exception. The Gizzie sex happened, but not all that nonsense after; in fact, I'm going to leave George's romances out of the story entirely because I just don't think he fits well with Callie or Izzie, despite the fact that I like both characters.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Not That Kind of Girl**

Mark Sloan was bored out of his mind and irritated. He hated Seattle. Really hated it. He picked up a copy of _Seattle_ magazine and flipped through it. "There has to be something redeeming in the God-forsaken city," he sighed to himself. And then he turned to a Bethany Whisper ad. "And here it is. Dr. Bethany Whisper…well, well, well." He allowed his eyes to wander over the spread.

He stood up as he watched Bailey move across the floor at a speed that defied her small stature. "Dr. Bailey!" he called out.

She paused, "What is it, Dr. Sloan?"

"I want Stevens assigned to my service again tomorrow."

"Will do," she replied. _I was going to anyway_.

He smirked. He was going to have so much fun with this.

* * *

"Grey – Shepard, O'Malley with the other O'Malley, Karev – Montgomery, Yang – Burke, and Stevens…"

"Shit."

"Excuse me, Dr. Stevens?" Bailey eyed her incredulously.

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought, now…"

"It's just that I've been stuck with him for the past week and it's really not fair that everyone gets paired with…"

"I don't want to hear it, Stevens. I have done everything in my power, trust me on this, to convince all you interns to keep your hands to yourself but…"

"But I have! I am the only one who isn't screwing my boss and"

"Would you like to?" Sloane appeared behind her.

Izzie just rolled her eyes and continued "and yet everyday I am punished for it by being assigned to _that_!"

"Dr. Stevens, he's an attending, you can't…" Bailey ground out.

"Can't what? Can't talk to him like this? If you even knew what I had to put up with all day, what I had to listen to… if he can talk to me as he like that, then I sure as hell can talk to him like this."

"Whatever, I don't have time for this. Stevens you're with Sloan."

Sloan smirked at her. "Come on Stevens."

Izzie let out an audible groan, but relented and proceeded to follow him, albeit at a distance. He looked back over his shoulder at her.

"Hurry up! You won't get in on any of my surgeries at that pace."

"I won't get in on any of surgeries anyway," she mumbled.

"What was that Stevens?"

"It's _Dr._ Stevens and it doesn't matter."

"Alright then, _Dr._ Stevens, let's have a look at our patient."

"Rosalind Gabrielle, age 23, in for breast augmentation."_ Great. As if he needs another opportunity to make snarky comments. Seriously?!_

"Miss Gabrielle," Sloan began.

"You can call me Lin," she smiled.

Izzie rolled her eyes. But Sloan smiled back and nodding responded, "Okay, Lin, you've already had two consultations, so you know the work up, but if you have any questions at all feel free to ask me or Dr. Stevens. The OR is being prepped for surgery at 7:30, so I'll be back in an hour to take you down."

"Great. That sounds great."

Sloan smiled and then proceeded from the room. Izzie paused a moment before turning to follow him.

"Is he good?" Lin asked.

"What?" Izzie couldn't believe her ears.

"I know there are all kinds of possible complications with breast implants, so I just wanted to know… I just was wondering…"

Relief washed over Izzie. _Get your mind out of the gutter_. "Oh! He's the best. You wouldn't be able to find a better plastic surgeon," she answered honestly. Izzie smiled reassuringly and then exited the room only to find Sloan staring her down.

"What?"

"Stevens…"

"_Dr_." She interrupted him.

"I am a busy man. You can't take your sweet time with every patient. I have a schedule to keep."

"Sorry," she replied with more than a touch of sarcasm.

"I'm serious. I know you have difficulty separating work from pleasure, but…"

"What?"

"But if you could try…"

"No, what did you mean that I 'have difficulty separating work from pleasure'?"

"Seriously, babe, it's not like the Duquette incident is a secret around here."

_Babe? He did not just call me Babe. _Izzie was sure steam was billowing out of her ears. But her anger was mixed with sadness. _Denny_. To her chagrin, she could feel her eyes welling with tears. She was losing control, so she did the only thing she could think of - she ran. He followed close behind, but she chose not to notice.

She closed herself into the nearest on-call room and leaned against the door, sinking to the floor. A soft knock came, but she ignored it. It came again, only this time more forceful. The next thing she knew the door was swinging open and she was sent sliding across the floor.

Sloan's eyebrows shot up as he watched her go flying.

"What the hell was that for?" She growled as she got up.

He lightly chuckled to himself, "Sorry, I didn't mean to turn you into a human projectile." Then he turned serious. "But you have to pull yourself together. You don't get to choose when to be professional. Here, at the hospital, you have to be professional one-hundred percent of the time."

She approached him now, her shoulders visibly shaking. "You don't get to lecture me on being professional. You've slept with the half the staff at Seattle Grace since you got here and I have to put with what can only be termed sexual harassment on a daily basis."

She was now up in his face. She poked him hard in the chest and hissed, "And you don't get to talk about Denny to me. Ever. Do you understand that?"

He studied her for a second. Then his brows furrowed. "You do remember that I am your attending, right?"

She backed up a step and then said "Pfff, you don't scare me."

"I own you. I can make or break or career. Your future depends entirely on me."

His ego astounded her. "And again I say, I am not afraid of you. And besides whatever your sway, you don't own me." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

She opened the door and walked out, with him tightly at her heels.

"Next patient, then?" he questioned. She gave a curt nod, which he could only discern from the quick movement of her ponytail.

* * *

"You wanna scrub in?"

"Seriously?"

"No, Stevens, I was kidding." Sarcasm dripped from his tongue. "Yes, I'm serious. I don't joke around at the hospital."

"Nope, you only fool around," Izzie replied under her breath. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and for a second she thought he'd heard her, but then he looked away.

She remained silent after that, too preoccupied with the mouth-watering sensation of assisting in her first plastic surgery. As the surgery began though, she immediately started to regret scrubbing in.

"Stevens, hold the breast firmly." She was thankful to be wearing a surgical mask if only because it hid her blushing face. As the procedure began to drag, her hands were beginning to feel numb.

"Can you handle it, Stevens?" Sloane wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She shot him a glare and roared, "I've got it, thanks."

As he finished, he called her over, "You want to stitch this up?"

She looked over at him and nodded hesitantly. He handed her the instrument and then moved to stand directly behind her, watching as she readied herself.

He leaned over her shoulder, and with his lips so close that they were almost touching her ear, whispered, "Now you're going to want to use the finest stitch possible, this is sensitive skin, you know."

His warm breath on the back of her neck sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn't even register a witty comeback to put him in his place. _Damn McSteamy being all… steamy_.

After she closed up, she hurried out of the OR to scrub out. Sloan appeared at the sink beside her.

"So what'd you think?"

"About?"

"The surgery, Stevens! Any interest in the field of plastics now that you've had a real taste?"

She did not even pause a brief moment before answering his question. "None at all. I want to _save_ lives. Plastics has nothing to do with fixing people. At least not in a meaningful way. It's all about vanity. I don't want my career to be breast augmentations and liposuction."

"I guess I overestimated your discriminating eye."

"How so?"

"You're right. I don't save lives in the same sense that Derek or Burke do. And I can see why you'd have difficulty understanding this, because you're built like a model." She flinched at the word. He gave her a quick once over before saying, "And you have a nice rack." She scowled at his unnecessary addition and was prepared to attack, but he continued on without sparing her a moment to rebut. "But I save lives too. Sometimes fixing what's on the outside fixes what's on the inside."

"I _so_ don't believe you."

"What?"

"You don't get to act like a jackass all day and then pretend to be deep and hurting."

"Who said anything about…"

"Don't. Don't even go there. I don't disagree. I get what you mean about fixing people inside. I do. But we both know that's not why you're in this field. You don't get to play that part."

"Listen, Stevens, I've put up with enough of your crap…"

"_My _crap?"

"Stop interrupting…"

"But…"

"Just shush, it's my turn, you can talk when it's your turn, like we're in the first grade."

_Turns? Talking in turns. Where the hell have I heard that before? Oh…_

He waited for her to bite back, but when she remained silent, he smiled. "Good intern."

"I am not your pet. You don't get to command or compliment me!"

"Relax, Stevens. And don't worry you won't be getting any compliments from me," he smirked.

"That's not what I meant."

He shrugged. "I know. You don't have to believe me. But you also don't get to assume. You don't know me, okay? You don't know why I am the way I am. You may think you do, and you may even be right. But you don't _know_."

She looked at the ground and nodded imperceptibly. "Sorry," she apologized. Her sincerity surprised him. "I don't mean to… to assume, but you do it to. You don't know me either."

He looked at her, appraising her. "What? Are you deep and hurting?" He laughed, throwing her own words back in her face.

But when her response was just to look him up at him with her dark eyes desperately swirling, he immediately regretted making light of the situation.

* * *

Her shift was finally over. _Thank God_. After their little encounter following surgery, his eyes never left her. He watched her incessantly. And to her immense frustration, it threw her off. She couldn't concentrate under his gaze.

_I am going to find Bailey and just tell her I refuse to work with Sloan. She'll understand. For sure, she'll…_

"Dr. Bailey!" Izzie ran up to Bailey, who was studying a patient's chart with another doctor. Izzie was startled when Bailey turned around revealing that the doctor she was conversing with was Sloan.

Izzie tugged her over to the side slightly. "Look I know I just got off probation and that I am in no position to be making demands…"

"I would be happy to put you in a position were all your demands would be met," Sloan quipped.

"Nasty, all of you are nasty." Bailey frowned, overtly disgusted with the scene before her.

"Dr. Bailey! I was wondering if I could be assigned to a different service tomorrow. I can't work with him. I just can't. Besides I have no intention of going into plastics."

"What? Is plastics below you, Stevens?" Sloan questioned.

"What is it with you and your need to dirty everything up?" Bailey asked in return.

"That wasn't dirty!" He defended.

"Oh," she said, eying him suspiciously, "But Stevens, it doesn't even matter. Everyone has to fulfill each rotation despite any intention to specialize in another field. Besides, Sloan requested you." With that Bailey walked away.

"You requested me?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes I did."

There was a pause. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, why?"

"I wanted something pretty to look at."

"Seriously?!"

He just looked at her smugly.

"I am a doctor! It's not my job to entertain you visually." When he opened his mouth to respond, she added, "Or any other 'ly' for that matter."

He just continued to smirk, which was starting to unnerve her.

"It must have been at one time." His grin widened as he shoved the _Seattle _magazine he'd discovered earlier into her hands.

She instantly grabbed him by lapels of his lab coat and pushed him into the wall. "Look I know you haven't been with us that long so you missed the first go-round, but I don't have time for your chauvinistic bullshit."

He was more than a little miffed by her actions. "Hey, now…"

"Yes, that is me in my underwear." Her cheeks were bright red with embarrassment now but her eyes were flashing black.

His smirk never faltered, but he removed her fists from his shirt with strength she was unable to resist.

"I don't have the patience anymore for 'Dr. Model' comments. If you want to look at me in my underwear I can't stop you." She saw the look he was giving her and quickly added, "in the ad."

During her tirade he spun her around so that she was against the wall. His two arms were on either side of her head, effectively trapping her. When she realized her position, she held her breath.

"Dr. Model, huh? I was thinking more along the lines of Dr. Whisper," his voice dropped down to a low, husky whisper. "How about modeling these for me?" He pulled out a very skimpy black lace bra and panty set from his pocket. She flushed in humiliation and anger. She attempted to wriggle free, which only resulted in him pushing his body against hers.

His eyes bored into hers and left only to steal a quick glance at her full lips.

"It's just your size." He enunciated every word as he leaned closer and closer. She couldn't help but look at his lips, inches from her own. She suddenly wanted his mouth on hers. This inconvenient thought caused her brain to jolt out of its dreamy state and reset her struggle against his advance. She successfully slid out from between the wall and his body.

"Don't you ever…" She began, but didn't know how to finish.

After a few seconds, Sloan said, "I can't obey you if you don't command me." He smirked sexily.

"You would never do what I told you anyway." She tried to talk her way out of the predicament.

"How do you know that? I can't give you what you want unless you tell me what that is. So… don't _what_? He leaned against the wall next to her.

"Don't…" Still, she didn't know what to say. She could think of a million things she wanted him to do to her, but she was trying to convince herself that those were the very things she should demand he NOT do.

"Don't seduce you?" Her eyes flashed to his.

"You could never seduce me."

He laughed heartily. "Yes I can and I think I will."

She was disgusted. "I don't do one-night stands."

"That's not what I heard. The gossip around Seattle Grace is worse than the pathogens, they leave no corner uninfected. Recent rumors report that you spread your legs for O'Malley, that puppy intern, who also happens to be married."_ He knows. The hospital knows. It is only a matter of time before Callie knows. _"Welcome to the Dirty Mistresses Club."

She was sick. She could feel the vomit in her throat. "I was drunk. We were drunk. It was one time, it was…" _I betrayed Denny. And I slept with a married man, I slept with my best friend_. The vomit was climbing higher in her throat. She turned and ran into the nearest bathroom.

Sloan stood outside the door as she emptied the contents of her stomach, the toxins of her conscience.

When she came out of the bathroom, she looked him directly in they eyes. "I don't do one-night stands."

"I bet you'll be under me by the end of the week."

Her pale face regarded him. "I am not that kind of girl."

Her shift had long been over and exhaustion was starting to set in. She stumbled towards the exit. He made no attempt to follow her. Instead, he watched her go and thought to himself, "Well, maybe I'm not that kind of guy anymore."

* * *


	2. A Different Kind Of Guy

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews guys! I'm so relieved and super glad to know people are actually reading this. Updates will be kind of random after this one… I'm house-sitting for a week with no internet connection, so I'll have time to write (assuming I can figure out where to go next) but I'll have to sneak back to my house to post anything. Oh, and I just realized that my line breaks aren't holding over from Word, so I've added them manually to the first chapter and this, hopefully that will clear up any confusion.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Not That Kind Of Guy**

Joe's was practically empty. She sat alone at the bar, drinking tequila like it was water.

"What do you think, Joe?"

"I'm going to have to cut you off, honey."

"What! _Why?_"

"You asked what I thought."

"I meant about _McSteamy_!" She stuck her tongue out. "Duh! We've only been talking about him for the past hour!"

"You've been talking about him a lot longer than that. But I still think you've had enough." A figure sitting in the back seemed to be listening intently and had been for quite a while.

"Please, Joe. I only have my tequila."

"Exactly. And it's all you'll have if you keep going on like this."

"Okay," she relented.

"See, it's relatively painless."

Laughing sardonically, she countered, "Yeah, we'll see about that in the morning."

He laughed with her. "It's good to hear you laugh. You haven't been as cheerful as usual."

"Haven't you heard a word I've said? No amount of alcohol can erase all of that! Of course I lack the cheeriness of my usual self."

"Honey, why don't you go home and sober up."

"Sober is overrated."

"Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Shhh… don't remind me!" She allowed her head into her arms resting on the counter.

"You're going to have one hell of a hangover."

"It won't be the hangover that hurts," Izzie mumbled as tears started to form. "Damn it."

"Oh, honey," Joe exclaimed as he came around from behind the counter and threw an arm around her shoulders.

"I can't… I'm so sick of crying. I just wish it would stop."

"It'll stop when it stops," a new voice explained. Izzie looked up and through her tears she saw _him_.

"What are you doing here?" She asked accusingly as she dried her tears with the back of her hand.

"I come here after work a lot…"

"No, I meant here as in standing in front of me," she said, motioning with her hands. Sloan took a seat in a stool next to her.

"I'd like to buy you a drink." He gave her his McSteamy grin.

"Sorry, can't. I've been cutoff." She didn't sound at all disappointed though. She looked up at Joe who had returned to behind the counter, but was still watching protectively. "Thanks, for taking care of me." Izzie collected her coat into her arms and walked to the door, but Sloan grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

"I'm not going home with you. I'm not _that_ drunk."

Sloan interrupted, "Ouch, Stevens. Look, first of all, when I take you home with me you won't be drunk and you'll go willingly." She glared at him not at all amused. "The truth is, I came over here to say I'm sorry."

"For…?"

"Earlier, about Denny."

Izzie adjusted her jaw. "I already told you, you don't get to talk to me about Denny."

"It's okay…"

"No, I get to decide that…" He put his fingers on her lips, silencing her protests.

"That's not what I meant. It's okay to miss him. It's okay to make mistakes, to be mean for no other reason than that you're having a bad day."

"Denny wasn't a mistake. And I'm not mean."

"Denny wasn't a mistake. George was." Izzie looked down at the mention of his name. "And you can be mean on occasion, but I was mostly talking about me. You've so preoccupied with your own bad days that you have been less aware of other people's. I was having a bad day, too."

"That doesn't mean you get to take it out on other people. And you certainly don't get to blame it on me."

"I'm not trying to blame it on you. But it's natural to take your anger out on other people."

"That doesn't make it right."

"No, it doesn't make it right, but people understand."

She regarded him skeptically. "Please don't bring up George again."

"Okay."

"Okay?" She was astonished at his easy acquiescence.

"Okay," he repeated.

"Anything else you'd like to apologize for?"

"Like?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you must have had something in mind, otherwise you wouldn't have said anything." Izzie didn't say a word, but the blush creeping up her cheeks made it abundantly clear what she was thinking. "If you're thinking about the modeling comment, I can apologize that it made it you uncomfortable but not for the remark itself. I still have the lingerie and it would give me great pleasure to see you model…" Before he could finish his sentence, Izzie slapped him.

"Enough," she said curtly. "I was stupid to think that maybe you really were just having a bad day and weren't the asshole you've proven yourself to be." With that, she turned on her heels and left the bar.

He stood motionless for a few seconds, rubbing his face. Then he ran out the door after her. In a few strides, he'd caught up and was jogging to keep up with her stomping.

"I'm not an ass." She didn't break her pace or even acknowledge him walking beside her. "Let me give you a ride home."

"I don't think so."

"I promise to behave myself."

"Are you even capable of that?"

"I don't know," he admitted honestly. "But give me a chance and I'll try."

"I can't handle anymore disappointment."

"I know. Let me take you home."

It was late and she really didn't want to walk all the way home. Besides a taxi would be expensive, she reasoned. So she gave in and nodded.

* * *

He opened the door for her and after she sat down, he buckled her in. She watched his actions curiously. "I can do that myself, you know." He smiled at her but didn't say a word.

"So, your place or mine?" He asked as he slid into the drivers' seat. As she made a move to jump out of the car, he laughed her off. "I'm kidding." Again, she looked at him curiously.

"What are you doing, Sloan?"

"I'm taking you home."

"No, I know that. What do you want?"

"I want a lot of things."

She groaned, "Why do you have to be so difficult?! What I meant was, what do you want with me?"

Her question was met with silence.

"I already told you that I'm not going to sleep with you."

"And I remember refuting that claim."

She rolled her eyes. "Even so, given the fact that I'm not going to hop into bed with you, what are you doing still hanging around."

"Maybe I'm still hoping that you will."

"I'm serious, Sloan. I wasn't kidding when I told you that I don't do that kind of thing."

Mark wasn't sure he knew himself what he was doing with this intern. He knew that she was the only person he'd met to call him on his crap. She was the only woman he could ever recall being truly immune to the 'McSteamy' face. And, most repulsively, she was the only girl who had ever acted disgusted at the thought of them in bed together. He wasn't sure what he saw in Izzie Stevens, he was just sure that he saw _something_. And it was for the purpose of discovering what that something was that he was so determinedly following her around. He noted that any other woman would love his apparent doting, but _she_ was genuinely annoyed by it. Then again, he was quick to admit to himself that she undoubtedly would argue the use of the word 'doting' to describe his actions.

Without ever having answered her question, mostly because he didn't yet have an answer to give, he dropped her off at the house she shared with Meredith and Alex. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said as he left her at the sidewalk.

"Yeah. Looking forward to it," she said without a trace of enthusiasm. He simply shook his head.

"You are too nice a girl for sarcasm. It doesn't suit you."

"I am not a nice girl."

"A debate, which, I'm afraid, we'll have to save for another day. It's late and you should go to bed."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"Stevens, you are so drunk right now, I'm not even going to respond. But if I were, I would say that 1) it is my right as your attending and 2) you tell me what to do all the time." He smirked and walked back to his car.

She stumbled up the stairs to the door and fumbled with the key. After five minutes of unsuccessfully attempting to unlock the door, she started banging on it with her fist. Mark, who'd been waiting for her to get safely inside, got back out from the car and stopped her from knocking.

"Let me help you."

"No!"

"Okay," he said as he took the key from her and unlocked the door anyway.

"I said 'no'!" She scolded, her breath tainted with alcohol.

"You were going to wake up your roommates."

"Too late." Meredith said yawning.

"Sorry, I didn't think she'd…"

Meredith waved with her hand, "It's not a big deal."

"She's drunk." By now, Izzie had gone limp and the only reason she's wasn't lying face down on the floor was Mark's arm around her waist.

"Happens to the best of us," Meredith sighed.

"We would know."

"Yes, we would. Besides, she's come home the last couple of nights like this."

"Do you know why?"

Meredith shook her head. "Izzie isn't really a private person, but she hasn't said anything recently. Which I guess I should have taken as a bad sign, huh?"

"No one is going to fault you for that. It seems everyone is too preoccupied with their own problems to notice anyone else's. And being a dirty ex-mistress can drive one to the alcohol."

"Izzie was the one drinking, not me."

Mark gave Meredith a pointed look. "Oh. OH!" Mark only nodded. "When? With who?"

Mark shook his head. "That's not my business to tell."

"That's awfully noble of you. What happened?" Meredith scrutinized him suspiciously. Mark ignored her question.

Mark carried Izzie up the stairs. Meredith directed him to her room. He laid her carefully on her bed and then removed her shoes. "Do you want to…?"

Meredith chuckled at his awkwardness. "We're interns. We can sleep in anything, on anything, and in any place. Besides if anyone can strip in their sleep, it's Izzie." Mark raised his eyebrows. "You don't want to know. She lives in her underwear." Mark's smile grew wider.

"There's one thing I'd like you to do for me…"

* * *

"Izzie is going to hate me," Meredith groaned.

"She won't hate you. She may even thank you."

"Later. Much later. If ever."

"Just tell yourself that you've got her long-term interests at heart."

"I swear to God, Mark, if you…"

"You don't have to worry."

"But you see, I do. We're family. She's been through a lot this year. And that's saying something coming from me."

Mark nodded thoughtfully. "I can't promise I won't hurt her. But I don't want to hurt her and I can promise you that I'll try my best not to."

"Why her? She's vulnerable and fragile. Why her and why now?"

"Meredith, I don't have all the answers."

"Do you have any?"

He shook his head, "You can't choose you who…"

Meredith looked at him, surprised, "You don't… do you?"

"I couldn't. I've never. It doesn't happen in a single moment, does it?" Meredith regarded him. For the first time since she'd met him, he looked…scared?

* * *

Mark's hand was climbing higher and higher on her thigh. His stubble tickled the inside of her legs. She could feel his breath at her entrance. She ran her hands through his hair, urging him closer.

Her radio blasted her wake-up call. Izzie sat up and ran a hand over her face. _What the fuck was that?_

"Izzie?" Meredith's voice called softly from behind the door.

"Hmmm?"

"You…" Her voice cut away to hushed whispers and then continued in a resigned tone "It's for you."

"The phone? I didn't hear it ring."

"No, not the phone. The door."

"Seriously? At this time?" She squinted at her watch. "It's 4:00! Who in the hell is awake at this hour?"

There was a silent pause before Meredith meekly answered, "Us?"

"Is it George? I hope you aren't making him wait outside."

"No, it's not George. And I did try to make him wait outside, he just invited himself in though."

Izzie thought she might still be dreaming. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and climbed out, rubbing her eyes as she did so. "Mere, you might want to consider laying off the booze, you're making no sense. You just said that it wasn't George but he invited himself in."

"No. _I_ invited myself in," Sloan said as he opened the door to her room, "and I only did so because she forgot to extend an invitation."

Izzie screamed as Sloan looked her up and down. "Hello Kitty," He smirked at her underwear.

"Get out! Don't you knock? Get out, get out, get out!" Each command was punctuated with a swing of her pillow, the nearest weapon the room afforded.

"Relax Stevens, it's nothing I haven't seen before," he said thinking of the magazine spread. But he promptly stepped outside her room and closed the door behind him.

Within seconds she opened it and emerged fully clothed and scowling. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you too," he greeted sarcastically.

"It's too early for games. Why are you here?" She repeated her question, yawning.

He smiled, at which she frowned. "I came here to give you this." He held out a cup of coffee for her. She stared at it for a few seconds and then looked back at him and then went back to staring at the coffee.

"Did you poison it?"

"No." He answered in a tone of slight irritation. "Take the coffee, Stevens."

"_Dr. _Stevens, and fine."

"What, no thank you?"

She just glared at him before grinding out, "Thanks."

"I also came to offer you a ride to work."

"Seriously?"

He just looked at her.

"I go with Meredith everyday. I don't need a ride."

"Uh, Izzie…"

Izzie couldn't believe her ears. "WHAT?" She hissed under her breath as she whipped around to face the tiny form peaking at her from around the corner.

"I actually can't give you a ride today."

"Why?!"

Meredith could only shrug in reply.

"You can't be serious. Don't do this to me. Meredith, I stuck with you when McDreamy was being McJackass. I baked you feel-good treats. Don't abandon me to this! _Please_."

Meredith wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Izzie cried and threw her hands up in the air. "Fine." She turned back to Sloan. "I will go with you to work."

"Ask nicely" Sloan teased.

"But you were _offering_!"

"We're going to be late."

"This day sucks and I haven't even been awake for an hour. Fine, whatever. Dr. Sloan will you take me to work, please?"

"Good girl. And, yes, I'd be happy to." He smirked at her obvious annoyance.

* * *

He opened the passenger door for her and she climbed in. He sat down in front of the steering wheel and before starting the car asked, "Are you buckled?"

"Yes, _Dad_. And what is your obsession with seat belts?" She asked thinking about the previous night as well.

She expected some degrading retort about the title 'dad,' but none came. The drive to the hospital was awkward as neither spoke a word during the entire trip. As soon as he had parked, she bolted from the car and headed to the locker room.

She was pulling her scrubs on when he burst through the door. "Do you insist on walking in on me every time I am in my underwear?"

He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the back of the room where at least there was some semblance of privacy. "Look, I was trying to do a nice thing for you this morning, but you are making it really hard… to be nice to you. What is your problem?"

"What do you mean what is _my_ problem? _You_ showed up uninvited at my house at 4 in the morning. _You_ barged into my room while I was half-naked." Sloane looked pleased with himself at her last comment "_You_ clearly black-mailed my roommate into refusing to take me to work." His pride faded into sheepish discomfiture at having been so easily found out. "And to what end? Why? Why do you want to torture me? I know you hate teaching, so I get why you enjoying give us interns crap. But that doesn't give you a right to seek me out when I am not here at the hospital being your student. And I know you know about Denny, so I hope you know that I can't handle this right now. I am an emotional wreck, so just stop. I can't be another body for you to bed. Can't you see why?" She was panting as she concluded.

He tilted his head sideways, studying her. He then bent his head down and touched his lips to hers. He pulled back slowly, his eyes closely monitoring her reaction. Her own eyes remained closed. She couldn't breath. He pressed his lips softly, briefly to hers again. He brushed a few stray hairs out of her face with his thumb and then proceeded to stroke her cheek.

_You asked me why. Because I want you, Isobel Stevens. Not just for a night. Not just as a warm body. And I'll wait. I'll wait until you're ready._ Sloan wanted so badly to give voice to his thoughts, but he knew she wasn't ready to hear it. She was recovering from Denny and the wreckage that was left had severely damaged reasoning skills. She'd jumped into bed with O'Malley, damn it! He did not want to be a rebound. He did not want to be the man she used to get over the man she loved. He wanted to be the man she loved. But he knew that he wasn't ready either. When he had Izzie Stevens he wanted to only have Izzie Stevens and he had to do some recovering of his own if that was to be. His thoughts strayed to Addison and that was enough to end the moment.

The sound of his pager forced him to leave abruptly. But as he was exiting, he called back, "I'm not the person you think I am, Stevens!"

And even though he'd already left, she yelled back, "It's _Dr._!!!"

Cristina walked in as Izzie was yelling. "What was that about?!"

Izzie could only respond, "Maybe he's not the man I thought he was."

"Who?" Cristina asked. The question didn't seem to register with Izzie. "You know what, never mind, I don't want to know. It just better not be another patient!"

"Cristina!" Meredith admonished. But again Izzie seemed as though she hadn't heard a thing.

As Izzie closed her locker, she turned around and finally noticed Meredith's presence.

"You know if you weren't so tiny I'd go all Callie O'Malley on you!" She threatened.

"I'm sorry."

"Not yet, but you will be."

"Izzie…"

"Not now, Meredith."

"Izzie, Sloan…"

"I'm serious, Meredith, not now."

"He's not as jackass-y once you get to know him."

"And you know that _how_? Look, I don't care whether he's freakin' McDreamy once you get to know him – you abandoned me this morning!"

"Oh, come on, it couldn't have been that painful."

"That's not even the point! It was an un-friend-like thing to do. And the unfriendliness factor was compounded by the fact that it was Sloan, who I've told you time and time again I think is a jackass. Never again, okay?"

"Izzie, as if I would have another opportunity…"

"_Okay?!_"

"Okay," Meredith relented.

"Thank you, and apology accepted. But I still stand by what I said earlier, you may not be sorry now, but you will be later." With that last warning, Izzie hurried off, leaving Meredith grumbling to herself.

"Stupid, McSteamy… with his enticing but totally unconvincing 'she's not going to hate you' bullshit."

* * *


	3. A New Kind Of Relationship

**A/N**: So, I feel bad that I didn't write this little note prior to posting chapter 2, but better late than never, I guess. The thing is, as you know (or as I'm assuming you know), this story is currently rated T, but I realize that it probably borders between T and M. Even so, I don't plan on changing what it's rated, but in the future I'll probably give a little warning if a chapter, like the last one, leans more toward the latter rating. Anyway, I hope that I didn't offend anyone. On a whole n'other page, thanks for all the reviews! I just got to read them today and I really appreciate everything you guys have to say!

* * *

**Chapter 3: A New Kind Of Relationship**

"Meredith you're with Sloan today," Bailey ordered.

"What?! I'm always with…"

"I know, which is why today you're with Sloan."

Izzie, in a hushed tone, asked, "Are you sorry _now_?"

Meredith glanced over at her incredulously. "There is no way you had anything to do with this. You just got off probation and we're interns, we don't have the rank to pull."

Izzie just smiled in a self-satisfied manner, irking Meredith to no end.

* * *

"So…"

"What?" Mark asked impatiently.

"I think the question is obvious, but if I have to I'll spell it out for you I will."

"Why you and not Izzie?"

"Yeah."

"I don't think I can deny her anything she asks for. She wanted a favor."

"She doesn't like plastics."

"I know. That was part of the favor, I suppose."

"Can I ask, when did this happen?"

"If you'd given me a chance to answer I would have told you that no, you can't ask. And when did what happen?"

Meredith ignored his feigned ignorance and continued right on, "You hate interns."

"I don't hate interns…" Meredith gave him a look. "Fine, I don't hate _all_ interns. I hate teaching. And to answer your question, I don't know exactly when it happened. I was bored and it came quietly. And then she was at the bar looking so lonely and it was actually, physically painful for me to watch her. Someone so beautiful shouldn't look that miserable."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't have a clue. This is all new for me."

"She's a good teacher."

"I am not sure that'll be enough. I'm not the most…ahem…attentive student."

"Do you want to learn?"

"I want her," Mark said simply.

"Well, you're going to have to learn to be with her."

"Then, yes, I want to learn by default. Have any knowledge you'd like to impart?"

Meredith dissolved into a fit of laughter. "I'm sorry, it's not really funny. But you do realize who are asking relationship advice from, right?"

"So your relationships have been messy. So what? That's life and I need to draw upon someone else's real-life experiences, seeing as I have none."

* * *

Mark peered around the corner to where Izzie was talking with another intern. She threw her head back and laughed, which caused a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. Then he saw who she was laughing with. _Karev,_ he growled. A tap on the shoulder caused him to jump.

"Shit, Addison. Don't sneak up on people!"

"Don't spy on people!" She countered.

"I wasn't spying on…" Addison raised a brow. "Fine. Whatever. What do you want?"

"I need to borrow your intern."

"Izzie?"

"Izzie's not your intern." Addison smirked.

"What? Oh, yeah, Grey. Go ahead. If she followed instructions, she should be…"

"Here's your coffee." Meredith thrust the Styrofoam cup into his hand.

He inclined his head toward Meredith, "You're going to be with Dr. Montgomery."

Meredith nodded and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Addison grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hall before she gave everything away.

"You suck at keeping secrets, don't you?"

Meredith laughed, "No, I'm actually pretty good at sneaking. But didn't you see the way he was staring?"

Addison rolled her eyes before relenting, "Yeah, he was so distracted during our two-sentence 'conversation' that I'm not sure he's even going to know where you are when he realizes that you're gone. I've never seen him like this. He's…"

"Infatuated," Meredith concluded. Addison and Meredith both giggled.

Meanwhile, Mark approached Alex and Izzie.

"Karev, Dr. Shepard is looking for you!"

"What? _Shepard_? Why? I didn't get a page."

"Don't run your mouth, just run!" Mark commanded. Alex gave him a funny look before jogging away. Turning around to face Izzie, Mark was caught slightly off-guard when she crossed her arms and glowered.

"_I'm_ Shepard's intern."

"I had a fifty-fifty shot," he shrugged.

"And that was your best guess? You do know that he and Addison…"

He raised a finger to silence her, "Don't say another word about Addison and Karev."

"Why does that bother you?"

"It's just, Karev, really."

"Alex isn't a bad guy."

"How can you defend him after what he did to you?"

"How do you know about that?! Do you know my entire sexual history?"

He laughed at her bewilderment, "I wouldn't mind exploring that topic first hand." She rolled her eyes. "And like I said, gossip travels like wildfire. If it makes you feel any better this bit of gossip wasn't so much about you as about some nurse, Olivia, I think."

Shaking her head, she replied, "That doesn't really make it better. Still, Alex isn't a bad guy and I think he really loves her."

"Don't say that!"

"What is your problem?" She stomped.

"Okay, it's not Karev. Or at least it's not just Karev. If it were any other guy I'd still be ticked. Karev just antagonizes an already impossible situation."

"Do you still love her?"

"No! Not like _that_ anyway."

"So why can't you let her go."

"I did. I have."

"Mmmhmmm, sure."

"I have!" He raised his voice in defiance.

"You wouldn't be so defensive if you didn't feel there was something to defend."

"You… I…" He was growling.

She stood on her toes and patted him on the head. "Use your words."

But instead he leaned forward and captured her lips. She didn't protest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body close to his and she settled into him comfortably. Her hands snaked around his neck, her fingers played with his hair.

When he finally broke the kiss for air, her eyes shot open. She pulled her arms back from around his neck, put her hands on his chest, and gently pushed him backward.

"What?" He asked softly.

She wouldn't meet his eyes. Taking a few steps backward, Izzie still refused to look at him and instead turned around and started walking at a haphazard pace down the hall. Watching the distance between them increase steadily with every beat of his heart, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. _What the hell?_ He threw his arms up. Usually he had a clue what he'd done wrong. _Sleeping with your best friend's wife. The wrong there is obvious._ But as he recounted the past moments, everything seemed fine besides her annoying questions and irritatingly accurate intuition.

A door behind him suddenly opened, and Derek stepped out. "That wasn't pretty."

"You saw that?!"

"Take a look around you."

Mark's head scanned the hall noticing that not only was it full of people but that many of them were glancing every so often in his direction.

"Was that why she freaked out? All of the people?"

"Somehow I doubt having an audience bothers her." Derek smiled gently.

"The gossip does."

Nodding, Derek praised, "You're learning. It's good."

"What?"

"You're thinking about her, about how she feels or at least how you think she feels, sometimes that's as close as we can get. Still, it's good."

Mark was starting to turn a little red, so Derek stopped. "But I think the reason she ran had more to do with your unfinished conversation."

"About Addision?"

"Yes."

"What does that have to do with anything? I'm not in love with Addison anymore, I'm not even sure I ever was!"

"Does Izzie know that?"

"Yes! I told her that I didn't feel that way about her."

"But you two didn't agree on whether you'd let her go or not." A strangely amusing perplexed expression colored Mark's features as he scratched his chin. "You know the kind of emotional shape Izzie is in. She can't move on with someone who hasn't moved on either."

"I was hoping we could move on together."

Derek smiled at his friend's ineptitude. "Did you tell her that?" Mark shook his head 'no'. "Maybe you should. Just remember your track record with women isn't great."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Mark asked, standing up a little straighter.

"You know a lot about Izzie's relationship history, not everything, but a lot. Don't forget she knows about yours too. She knows you've been the hospital's resident manwhore." The term visibly stung Mark. "My bet is that she's afraid of becoming just another notch in your bedpost."

"I _do_ want to sleep with her. But that's not all I want. I'm not out to make her a number."

"You've given that impression in the past, though. She has no reason to believe otherwise."

"I should give her reason."

Derek nodded.

"How?"

"I don't know if I can help you with this. Some of this you have to do on your own, otherwise it wouldn't be you she was in a relationship with." Mark looked troubled, so Derek patted him on the back, "You'll figure it out."

"What if I don't?"

"It's not possible." Derek made to walk away, but stopped. "What changed?"

"What is everyone's fascination with this? I'm not reformed. I'm not any different than I was. I'm the same guy. It's just that no one ever _really_ knew that guy. I didn't even know me. I'm _still_ learning who I am."

Derek dropped his head and smiled like he'd just been told a secret, "Ah."

* * *

"He just keeps manipulating me!" Izzie sighed as she fell onto the gurney.

"Yeah and McSteamy tricked you into kissing him," Cristina shook her head.

"He did!"

"…"

"He did! He's really good at it."

"Kissing?"

"Yes. NO! Tricking me, but he's not a bad kisser."

"Yeah, right, 'not bad.' I'm sure he's phenomenal." Cristina was beginning to have trouble mustering the tired remains of her patience with Izzie and her 'poor' conflicted conscience.

"It was pretty fantastic," Izzie thought dreamily, touching her fingers to her lips.

"Fantasizing about me?" Mark appeared next to her. Cristina, disgusted by the absurdity of the exchange before her, slid discreetly out.

_Unwillingly_, she thought. "In your dreams."

"Every night." _Damn it, Mark,_ he thought_. Enough._ Wracking his brain, Mark recalled,_ Derek mentioned something about avoiding sexual innuendo._ Izzie sat up. "Where are you going?" His voice was concerned and uneven.

"To file the sexual harassment charges."

"Hey, I did you a favor today."

"You owed me that favor. Besides, what did you think, you'd do me a favor and that'd grant you rights to my body?"

He couldn't think. Her word-weapons were confusing him.

Izzie took pity on his the confused male figure in front of her. She sighed, "Mark, thanks for the favor. I won't ask for any more. But please stop."

"Stop?"

"Following me. Manipulating me."

"Manipulating? I haven't been…"

"The kissing. That can't happen again. It was a one time lapse in judgment that I blame entirely on you."

"But I want it to happen again. And again. And again." The joy in his eyes grew increasingly vibrant as he thought about the future kissing, but he stopped himself before falling from reality. "And it's not fair to blame that on me. I don't want there to be any blame at all."

"_You_ kissed _me_. Not the other way around. I was..."

"Pleasantly surprised?" He sat down next to her.

"No."

"Charmed?" He leaned a little closer.

"No."

"Aroused?" His face was inches from hers.

"No."

He kissed her temple. She turned towards him to tell him to stop, but he kissed her cheek before a sound escaped her lips. His lifted his hand to cup the side of her face, trailing kisses down her jaw.

"Mark," she whimpered.

"Mmmhmm?" He kissed her nose, her forehead.

"I…" He reached up and released her hair from that God-awful clip. He watched, mesmerized, as her hair spilled over her shoulders. Leisurely, he leaned into her and smelled it. Then he resumed planting butterfly kisses all over her face.

A beep caused her to jump, but his arm steadied her. Her pager. _Damn it_.

She looked down at it, "I have to go." He wasn't sure, but he thought he sensed disappointment in her voice.

* * *

"You didn't follow the plan."

"I didn't just not follow the plan, I destroyed it!"

"It was _your_ plan."

"I know!" Mark buried his head in his hands. "But I see her and I forget everything!"

Derek laughed.

"She was lecturing me on kissing. I can't imagine what kind of lecture awaits me now."

"I don't know, if the first didn't seem to have much effect."

"Well I interrupted it. With kissing. What does that say about my listening skills?"

Derek just laughed again.

"Will you stop laughing at me?!"

"I just didn't see this coming. No woman has ever had such a hold over you."

"And I'm not happy about that."

"You're not?"

"No. I don't think so. I don't know. I haven't thought about it. Why?"

"Maybe it's not a bad thing." Mark squinted in suspicion. "It's called being in a relationship."

"A relationship?"

"You know, flowers and chocolate, dinner and a movie – dating."

"It's been a while since… I'm not sure I've been in what you'd consider a relationship for… I don't know if I even remember how, besides isn't dating for the younger generation." Drowning in desperation, his voice unsteady, his face contorted, everything about him appeared pained.

"It'll come right back to you."

With that slight glimpse of hope, relief washed over his features. "You think so?"

Pausing to consider this, Derek thought better of what he'd said. "Or maybe she'll find your incompetence charming."

Mark swallowed hard.


	4. Some Kind Of Honesty

**Chapter 4: Some Kind Of Honesty**

"I'm going to try a different tactic," Izzie declared.

"Yeah?" Meredith asked.

"Yeah."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to be nice."

"You're always nice."

"No, I'm not. And not to him. But it's hard to be nice to someone who is so…" Her voice grew in volume, "difficult."

"Izzie! You're killing the pillow." Izzie released her death grip on the pillow sitting in her lap.

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was… but see! This is what he does to me. I'm a calm person. I'm together and calm and then he comes along and I'm, I'm this!"

"Why do you think that is?"

Innocently unaware of Meredith's implication, Izzie answered, "I don't know. I don't have any idea. Wait, why?"

Meredith's eyes danced in amusement, making Izzie apprehensive. "Do you think that maybe deep, deep down you are just a teeny tiny bit attracted to him?"

"NO! No, I won't deny he's gorgeous, I mean, he's freakin' McSteamy, right? But in what kind of relationship do you just stare at your partner? That's not real."

"The kissing is real."

"Shut up!" Izzie threw the pillow at Meredith, who dodged it while laughing. Despite herself, Izzie joined in the laughter. "I am not letting it happen again. He just keeps…"

"Tricking you, we know."

"It's not just that. He's an ass. The way he treated me that day…" She trailed off.

Meredith regarded her friend sorrowfully. "But I thought you said he apologized for it."

"He did, well, kind of. But that's not enough. Words can't erase actions and I can't forget what he did. Worst of all, I can't forget that he's the kind of person who could do those things."

"Do you ever wonder why he did that?"

Her voice softened. "All the time. If it wasn't for that day I don't think I'd have quite as low an opinion of him as I do."

"Maybe he was having a bad day."

"Oh, Meredith, don't make excuses from him."

Something about Izzie's expression made Meredith suspect she wasn't getting the whole story. "What?"

For a second it seemed that Izzie was going to brush her off, but after a hesitant breath, she admitted, "That's what he said."

"So?"

"So what? All I can say is that it must have been one hell of a bad day. Besides that's a very lame, very generic excuse."

"I get the impression he doesn't have the best coping skills."

"As if that isn't obvious."

"Izzie."

Izzie was starting to get annoyed. "What, Meredith? Who's side are you on here? And why are you so interested all of the sudden?"

"If there are sides, I'm on yours."

"_If_?"

"I'm just looking out for your happiness."

"And you think that being with Sloan is the key to my happiness," Izzie scoffed.

"I think it has potential."

"Whatever. I said I was going to be nice to him and I will be, as long as he lets me."

* * *

"Addison?" Meredith spoke into the phone.

"What's up?"

"Izzie is less than convinced. She's really hung up on what he did to her."

"Yeah, well, Mark can be an ass. Don't worry about it too much though. Derek is coaching him."

"Really?"

"Kind of. His coaching mainly consists of advice like don't sleep with other women and limit the use of sexual innuendos." Meredith laughed into the receiver. "To be honest though, I don't think it's having much of an effect on Mark. He doesn't seem to be retaining any of it."

"Is he sleeping around?"

"What? Oh, no, right now it's like he doesn't even live in the same world as the rest of us. He's completely oblivious to everything and every_one_ else. All he thinks about is Izzie. Just today he walked right by the nurse's station without giving them so much as a passing glance."

"No!"

"Seriously, you wouldn't believe it. Her name is the only thing I hear come out of his mouth. 'What kind of music do you think _Izzie_ likes? Does _Izzie_ like roller coasters? Why does _Izzie_ want to be a surgeon?' Don't get me wrong, I like Mark and I like Izzie and I want them to be happy, but if his crush on her didn't benefit me in some way, I would have slapped him by now. I mean, you saw him the other day. I'm surprised he can function well enough to do surgery. I've been half-expecting to see his patients come out of the OR with 'Izzie' written in stitches."

Meredith chuckled. "I have to admit I'm scared for her though. She's in no kind of emotional shape to handle anything that we would consider typical of Mark Sloan."

"I know how Mark can come off, believe me, I know. But don't underestimate him. He's had a rough time and he knows what it feels like to be completely devastated."

"It's not that. I like him, I even understand him to an extent. But this thing he has for Izzie, it developed so fast. I just worry that it's not real or that it will disappear just as quickly."

"Don't you believe in love at first sight?"

"I used to. I'd like to. But now that I… I just wonder."

"Well I do. With a little modification. What if I said this didn't happen as fast as you think it did?"

"I'd say what are you talking about? One day he treats her like she's a sex object and then the next day he's asking me not to give her a ride to work so that he can drive her. One day, Addison? That's pretty fast."

"If it really happened in that one day, then yes, I'd agree with you. But this started before that. He noticed her from day one. He would, of course. She's got that obvious beauty, tall, big boobs…"

"Blonde."

"Actually, no. Mark has generally avoided blondes. Well, not so much avoided them; Mark doesn't really avoid any women. It's ironic though, because the reason he always cited was some naive idea about the substance and depth of blondes, but when he finally falls for a girl with those qualities, she's blonde." Addison laughed at her own observation. "Anyway, the first day that he picked her to be his intern, he had every intention of laying her, but it became clear to him pretty fast that she wasn't going to be that easy. You know, she absolutely refused to get him his bone-dry cappuccino and blueberry scone, which in the retelling he referred to as 'criminal.'" Addison tried to stifle a laugh at the memory. "When she finally agreed to run his errand, she told him that doing so didn't mean she respected him and that if he wanted to be respected, he'd have to do something worth respecting. It was then, I think, that he fell just a little bit for her. He's been falling ever since, it's just taken him this long to realize it."

"He told you all this?" Meredith asked uncertainly.

"We're friends," Addison said in tone that indicated her own surprise at their relationship. "But don't you see? That's love at first sight. It was when he finally saw her, I mean, really _saw_ _her_ that he fell in love. It didn't happen in the blink of an eye, though his realization of his feelings might have."

Meredith was thoughtful. What Addison said made sense to her, but her concern for Izzie overrode both her understanding and her fear of offending. She just had to know. In an apologetic voice, she began, "Now I'm not trying to accuse him of anything, like I said, I honestly like Mark, but how do you know he didn't make that stuff up? That this isn't some elaborate ploy just to, you know."

"Mark's not like that. He doesn't lie to get someone into bed. Probably because he's never had to, still, that's not the point. Yes, he's taken a lot of women to bed with him, but he's never misled them, at least not intentionally. He's upfront about what he wants. Perhaps the reason he's hurt girls' feelings is that he assumes they want the same thing he does. He's gotten used to women coming to him for comfort sex. I'm guilty of that charge."

"That still doesn't explain why he treated her like crap."

"Some of it, I think, was his twisted idea of flirting. Sex, he understands. Love, not so much. He enjoys pushing her. Apparently, he gets some satisfaction in knowing that he can get her so worked up."

"Look, I think he'll be good for her and I think he's ready for this. But if she so much as sheds one single tear over him, I'm holding you responsible for making _me_ feel responsible."

"Fair enough." Addison sounded unworried.

Satisfied with what she'd learned, Meredith asked, "You have any particular date in mind?"

"No, I think it's too soon to set the specifics. We'll have to play it by ear for now."

"Okay, that works. So… how is Alex?"

Addison mumbled something.

"I can see you blushing through the phone," Meredith teased.

"Shut up. I really have to go now, I have a consult…"

"With Alex?" Meredith giggled and Addison embarrassedly hung up without responding.

* * *

"Stevens, what are you doing here? Your shift ended over an hour ago." Bailey looked stern.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I just wanted to spend some time here, volunteering," Izzie's smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Lord knows I could use volunteers, but don't you have somewhere you'd rather be? You're a slave to this hospital enough as it is."

"Thanks for your concern, but I really need to be here today." Miranda's eyes softened. "I miss him."

"Well, okay then. Let's get you a patient." Miranda handed her a chart and pointed her in the direction of one of the beds. She turned around to grab a chart for herself and was caught by surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to volunteer," Mark answered nonchalantly.

"Uh-huh. I just had this conversation not five seconds ago." Her eyes followed his line of vision to Izzie, who was drawing a blood sample. "You aren't corrupting my intern are you? I've already had to witness Grey, Yang, and most recently Karev's demise, and I'm not eager to see Stevens fall down the same hole." He wasn't really listening, which did not go unnoticed by Bailey. So, with her hand on her hip, she demanded in a less than patient tone, "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes," he lied, turning to her. "You do realize you are only a resident and I'm an attending?"

"This is _my_ clinic. And if you're volunteering, then I will be your boss." He smiled sexily. "Nope, none of that. I don't want to see any of that arrogant 'I'm so steamy with my facial hair and my blue eyes and my cocky smirk, everyone should just bow to my will' nonsense."

Mark laughed, "Bailey."

"Look, you wanna volunteer. Go right ahead. Grab a chart. But I don't want you to say a word to Stevens, do you understand me, not one word." He took a chart without a sound of protest. "Good," Bailey said and hurried over to her patient, muttering something about the McLabeled male attendings at Seattle Grace.

When Bailey had forbidden him to speak a word to Izzie, he'd seriously considered leaving. But he wanted to be around her and she was here, so he had nowhere else to go.

Between working on his patients, he'd look over at her and watch her work. Her brows furrowed in concentration, her reassuring smile and gentle gestures, every movement she made fascinated him.

She felt eyes on her, but she refused to believe they were his. However, when she looked up and met his gaze, her fear was confirmed. She looked quickly away, but after that moment her hands wouldn't steady. She felt like every move she made was under scrutiny and it made her nervous. After struggling through her sixth patient she couldn't take it anymore. Marching over to where he was, she demanded, "Stop looking at me."

Mark's eyes widened. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't pretend that he wasn't looking at her. He even knew that she knew, which had thrilled him even more than just observing her. He didn't want to refuse her, but he also didn't want to stop looking at her. He wasn't even sure it was physically possible.

"I can't think when you're watching me."

"Do I make you nervous?" Though he asked out of sincere curiosity, the tone of his voice made his question sound taunting.

"Yes. And not because I care what you think about me, I don't."

"Why then?"

"I don't know," she admitted freely. "But you have to stop."

If she was going to be honest, he was going to try as well, "I can't."

She screwed up her face, "Why the hell not?"

"I don't know! It's like you're that shiny blue light and I'm that stupid fly."

"What?" She was so confused.

"I can't stop staring because you're all I think about. All night. All day. Everyday. I can't get you out of my head. And the scariest thing is that I don't want to."

Bailey spotted Mark, "Oh no, he is NOT." She was in between the pair in an instant. "What did I say to you?"

Mark just tilted his head and looked at her in tired aggravation. "I'm going."

"That's what I thought." As Mark walked away, Bailey turned to Izzie and with gentle force said, "You too."

"But I…"

"You have been here plenty long." Izzie looked at her watch and couldn't believe it'd been 4 hours. "Go home, get some rest and I'll see you for rounds in the morning." Izzie nodded.

"Thanks for this. I needed to feel him around me today. I needed to remember."

"You'll always remember," Bailey tried to comfort her.

"Sometimes," her voice fell, "Sometimes, I fear that I'm forgetting. I catch myself, feeling happy, like none of this happened. Like there isn't something missing in my life."

"Stop punishing yourself. You don't have to feel guilty forever. I know you do now, but when you have those moments when life seems okay again, enjoy them. Don't deny yourself this life. He wouldn't want you to stop living." Bailey patted Izzie's hands and let hers rest atop Izzie's for a few moments before moving back to help the next patient.

Izzie sighed. As she walked out she caught sight of the elevator doors closing and ran to catch a ride. _Made it!_ But her relief turned to agony when she saw that the only other occupant was none other than Mark Sloan. She quickly turned her back to him and went to punch the first floor button, but stopped, seeing it was already lit.

Mark had taken a step forward and was standing disconcertingly close.

"It's Derek and Meredith's thing." His breath warmed her skin.

"What is?" He asked as he leaned forward to kiss the sensitive skin on the back of her neck.

"Moments in elevators. It's their thing."

He mumbled something against her neck. She stepped forward, putting space between them.

"Why won't you let me kiss you?"

"Why do you want to kiss me? You know I don't want you to. You know it can't lead anywhere." She turned around to face him. "So I have to ask, why?"

"I already told you, I want you. And I hope that you want me too."

Her eyes grew large and sad, "I can't. I…"

He stepped forwarded and folded her into his arms. "Shhh…" he whispered into her hair as she sobbed against his chest.

With every anguished cry she exhaled, his heart broke a little bit more. "I wanted to wait to tell you," he apologized. "But I couldn't. You asked and I couldn't give you any other answer. I couldn't lie. I couldn't pretend any longer."

Her crying grew in volume with every word he whispered.

"I'm sorry. I know, I know you can't," he tried to sooth her, rubbing circles across her back.

Suddenly her lips were on his in a fury of hungry kisses. For a moment he let himself imagine that she really wanted him; he gave her a moment, just a moment of comfort, a moment without thought, before pulling back. "You don't want this. You can't do this and neither can I. I can't mean nothing to you. Let me take you home."

* * *

As she got out of the car, she glanced briefly up to meet his eyes. He tilted his head to one side, encouraging her. The feeling in her gut, a mixture of shame and misery, wasn't alleviated by this gesture, but she forced herself to speak anyway. "Thank you for not… just thanks. And I'm sor…"

He cut off her apology, "Don't. You have nothing to be sorry about. I knew you weren't ready and I put this on your shoulders anyway, I'm just as much to blame as you."

She felt her heart break all over again, except this time it was for a different man. Everything he'd said, everything he'd done was wonderful. If circumstances were different, if the timing wasn't what it was, she wouldn't be getting out of his car and leaving him in it.

Although she felt truly foolish for her desperate actions in the elevator, she found herself conflicted over how to feel about the event in its entirety. His reaction wasn't what she would have guessed. If it had all been a test, _which would have been so much easier than the reality of the situation_, she thought wryly, he would have passed. His gentlemanly response had revealed something about himself to her. Though the puzzle of his character was made more complicated, she felt like she knew him a little bit better. And so, despite the sickening feeling that wrenched her insides at the memory of that kiss, she couldn't truly regret the incident itself.

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry I spent so much time not on Mark and Izzie, but the Meredith/Addison plotting needed to be furthered, though there's still some mystery in it I hope. Also, if you haven't noticed, in this Meredith is a little more cheery than she has been recently on GA. There are multiple reasons for this, one - I don't like that in the real GA she never gets a break to be happy, two – Mark/Izzie could be considered her next project after Cristina/Burke, and the third reason isn't really a secret, but it will appear in the story later and I'd prefer not to give anything away (or tie myself down to any particulars just in case I change my mind). While I'm here I might as well mention that I started writing this story before the finale and so while it is mostly consistent with GA (with the minor exemptions mentioned at the beginning) it doesn't included the finale, which is mainly to say the Bang wedding didn't fail, in this story the wedding isn't even in progress and may or may not be addressed.

I've written up to chapter 7 now, though I still have some editing to do, so I'll hopefully be able to get chapters up more quickly – I'm done house-sitting on Saturday, so expect to see the next one then.

Also, I want to shout out to a few specific reviewers, though I love you all:

Ninde Ancalime: You totally got what I trying to imply about love at first sight! When I read your review I was so relieved that it made sense to people. In this chapter I decided to spell it out a little more clearly – or as clearly as possible considering that love is messy and always complicated.

E.B. Rowling: Thanks so much for your consistent reviewing! But could you be a little more specific when you say that something isn't written well? Is there any specific points I could work on to improve? I'm not trying to be defensive (I'm always afraid that people read things like this in a different way than I'm thinking them). BTW, love the pen-name!

Loveletters700: Anything more I can do to convince you to ship McStizzie? Hehe… To be honest, it truly surprises me that more people don't; some are even surprised at the idea of the pairing. I keep asking myself if I was the only one who watched the scene when Izzie refused to fetch his coffee and then later taught him about respect or the one where they were both in surgery and there was that line, something like "it looks good doesn't, it?" which had less to do with the surgery than the people performing it, I'm sure. I really thought that was where the writers were headed, so it was a real slap in the face when they Gizzie-d me.

JustMe-xo: Thanks for all the kind words! I always look forward to your reviews, they put me in the best writing mood. Seriously, I couldn't stop smiling like an idiot for an entire day after I read one of them.

Amnesie: I'm totally flattered that you're reviewing my story! I'd been a closet fan of An Unforeseen Truth before I became a member of this site. When I saw your name on a review, I was a little star-struck. I've just started reading your other stuff and it's just as amazing – The Five Things is one of the most original and creative pieces I've ever read. I'll be posting a review soon!

* * *


	5. The Truest Kind Of Love

**Chapter 5: The Truest Kind Of Love**

Izzie had gone straight up to her room. In a gesture of respect, Meredith waited a few minutes before following her. After a few short knocks, Meredith let herself in and sat down on the edge of the bed, beside Izzie's face-down, sprawled-out form.

"You okay?" It occurred to Meredith that the question was stupid before it left her lips, but she didn't know how else to begin. It's just what you said.

"Mmphnn" came Izzie's muffled response.

"You're not fine."

"No, I'm not." Izzie lifted her face from the pillow, revealing her tear-stained cheeks and red eyes.

"Iz, what happened?"

"It's not fair!"

"What's not?" Meredith asked patiently.

"Him wanting me now! It should be Denny saying all those things. Or Sloan saying all the wrong things. When I was ready for love, I couldn't have it. And now here it is, and I'm not ready. What the hell is wrong with me?" By now Izzie was sitting up, Indian-style.

"Iz, nothing is wrong with you." Meredith scooted closer to her friend.

"Then why can't I get it right?" Izzie's held fell onto Meredith's shoulder.

"It'll all work out, you'll see."

"I don't see how that's possible."

"Of course not. That's not how the universe works. If a massive comet, you know the one that was gonna end it all, was coming towards Earth, you wouldn't be able to tell until right before it hit. Love's the same way. You can't see the big one coming, but you'll feel it hit."

Izzie looked at Meredith. "Seriously? God, Meredith you are so full of shit," Izzie choked out half-laughing, half-crying.

"It's true!" Meredith earnestly defended.

"If you say so." Izzie's doubt was beginning to agitate Meredith, but it was amusing Izzie.

"Well, Google it if you don't believe me!"

"I don't doubt the science, just applying that same science to love. There's no formula. No 'A' plus 'B' equals happy ending." Izzie dissolved into a fit of giggles at the ridiculousness of the idea.

"Fine. Believe what you want." Despite being peeved at the unwillingness of her friend to entertain the idea that she was right, Meredith was glad that it was laughter and not tears leaking out of Izzie.

* * *

Izzie woke up feeling revitalized and strangely unperturbed by the events of yesterday, which had sent her spiraling down the drain. _Today can't be as bad as yesterday_. With the reassurance that this new day was to be better than the one before, she felt that she had a fairly good chance of having a fairly good day. Of course, being optimistic enough to believe that nothing can go wrong does not prevent things from doing just that and by the end of the day Izzie had to concede that it had actually been worse than the one prior.

As Bailey rattled off the day's assignments, Izzie didn't feel surprised that she was yet again with Sloan. In fact, she didn't feel much of anything. That was before she saw him. _I'm SO screwed._

It was like she didn't even know how to be around him anymore. Their interaction was awkward and mechanical and full of uncomfortable silences, made even more uncomfortable by the fact that both were painfully aware that the situation hadn't been this unbearable just the day before. She spoke to him only when he asked her questions and even then her answers consisted of two or three words.  
Twice Mark had to repeat what he'd said because she'd spaced out, lost in her own tumultuous thoughts. But what disturbed him the most was that she didn't verbally reprimand him when he'd made an 'inappropriate' comment regarding the preferable ratio of a women's height to her breast size, a statement which he made only to get a rise out of her. Not only did she not yell, she didn't react at all. Nothing.

Mark paled at the horrifying realization.

* * *

"I killed her!"

"What?"

"I've killed Izzie." Mark was pacing madly back and forth along the wall.

"Calm down, Mark."

"I can't! I've killed her, I've fucking killed her. Why do I always destroy the things I love the most?"

"Mark…"

"Am I contagious? Is my love poisonous?" His voice had become frantic.

"Mark you do not kill everything you love."

"Abigail, my lab puppy. Chita, my nanny. Addison. My mom," Mark rattled off the list.

"Abbie was not a puppy, she was old and lived a long, happy life. Your nanny didn't quit because of you. You were the reason she stuck it out as long as she did. She really loved you. I think we both agree that you never really loved Addison. You wanted to, I'll give you that. But you didn't. And your mother. Her death was not your fault."

Mark pulled out a chair and collapsed into it.

"You're looking at this all wrong. Your love didn't kill any of them, it sustained them. It kept them with you as long as they were." Derek squeezed Mark's shoulder.

"But I've damaged her."

"I think she'll pull through."

"Derek, I'm serious. She's not Izzie anymore. She's quiet and distant and unemotional." A look of disgust marred her features, "She's me! I've turned her into me."

"You are not all those things. And just give her time…"

"I am!"

"I wasn't finished. She needs space, too."

"Space? How do I give her that? We work in the same hospital."

"Choose a different intern for a while. Let Burke or Addison have her, or me."

It was clear that Mark was not happy with Derek's suggested solution. He didn't want to be so far removed from her world that he didn't even get to see her. It was all he had. But this wasn't about him, it was about her. And he loved her, so he would do what was best for her, even if that meant separating himself from her.

"Love isn't easy." Derek knew his best friend was struggling with this.

"I know that. I didn't expect it to be easy, but I sure as hell didn't think it'd be this hard."

* * *

Unlike the day before, the next day Izzie _was_ surprised at the assignments.

"Grey – Shepherd, Yang – Burke, Karev – Sloan…"

Izzie plunged into a coughing fit. Alex didn't seem all too pleased with what he'd heard either, but he didn't seem surprised and showed no sign of protest. Bailey eyed Izzie, challenging her to argue, but she didn't. Whether a result of the stupor caused by the shock or her newly-acquired reticent demeanor, even Izzie herself couldn't be certain.  
So Bailey continued, "and Stevens – Montgomery."

FLASHBACK

"Addison?" Mark tentatively touched her arm. "I need a… would you please do something for me?" His uncharacteristic politeness and uncertainty made a refusal impossible.

"What can I do for you?" She turned slightly to him, leaning her elbows behind her on the counter.

"Well, it's not really for me. I mean it is, but it's not."

"What is it, Mark?"

"It's Izzie."

"Of course it is."

"I need you to request that she be assigned to your services."

"For how long?" The question wasn't aggressive. In fact, the way Addison asked it made it sound as though Mark could have secured Izzie's position by Addison's side years into the future.

"At least for tomorrow. But it'll probably be necessary for the next week or so. I'm sorry, I don't have an exact time frame for you. These things, they depend."

Addison nodded slowly. "Some things you just have to play by ear."

"Yeah," he agreed solemnly.

* * *

"Alex!" Addison whispered harshly.

Alex whipped around, but his favorite redhead wasn't anywhere to be seen. He turned a full circle and when he still didn't catch site of Addison, he suspected that he was hearing things.

"In here!" The next thing Alex knew he was being pulled through a narrow doorway.

"What's with the sneak…" Addison silenced him with her lips. When she pulled away, he smiled. "Okay, I like the sneaking." Addison smiled back before playfully slapping him.

"As much fun as this is, this isn't why I brought you in here." She took a deep breath and then in a single breath raced, "You're going to be assigned to Sloan tomorrow and for I don't know how long after that." She covered her mouth with her hands, awaiting Alex's reaction.

His mouth turned downward and his brows knotted together. "Care to explain why?"

"Izzie can't work with Sloan. Or he can't work with her. I don't really know which. But they need some time apart if they're going to be together."

"I don't know why you still care about this. From what I've seen they don't even need to be together for Sloan to be distracted. He doesn't care about you anymore. He doesn't care if I'm with you. Whether he's with Izzie or pining for her doesn't make a difference, he's over you. So why are you still meddling?"

"I'm not _meddling_. And don't simplify the issue. This was never just about keeping him from thrashing you or preventing you from being with me. He's my friend. And despite everything, I care about him. I want him to be happy."

After a minute passed, Alex closed his eyes and said, in a way that made Addison know he had given in, "I hate him."

"You can hate him. I hate him sometimes too. But don't fault him for this, this is a good thing he's doing, even if it doesn't feel like it to you."

"I don't have a choice in the matter do I?"

"Not really."

"Okay, despite the fact that what I have to say on the subject doesn't mean anything…"

"I didn't say that."

"Let me finish. I'll do it. But I'm doing it for you. Not for Sloan. Maybe a little for Izzie," he relented. Addison jumped up and threw her arms around him in an appreciative embrace and his exasperation was forgotten.

END FLASHBACK

Izzie saw Sloan stroll up to the nurse's station and pick up a chart. As he signed off on it, he looked up at her. Even though the confusion in her face broke his heart, he looked immediately away and hurried off in the direction he'd come.

_What the hell was that?_ If anything she was more bewildered than when she'd found out she was going to be paired with Addison. Bailey had only said that it was time for a neonatal rotation, an explanation which Izzie didn't believe.

"Dr. Stevens, I have a bowel obstruction later this afternoon. You wanna scrub in?" Addison appeared beside her.  
With one last look in the direction he'd gone, Izzie responded, "Yes." _I think I need to cut something_.

* * *

The surgery wasn't the quick fix Izzie had hoped for. It was quick, a routine surgery that was almost mind-numbing. And it did get her mind off Mark, but as soon as she stepped out of the OR he was there, penetrating every thought.

As Izzie and Addison scrubbed out of a surgery, Addison addressed her casually. "So have you given anymore thought to specializing in neonatal? I'm more convinced than ever that you have a natural talent for my field."

"No." Izzie's sour mood seemed to have carried over from the day before.

"Oh." The disappointment was evident in Addison's voice. Izzie immediately felt bad for her curt answer. Ever since she discovered the truth in the adage "misery loves company," she hated it when the gloomy people ruined the happy people's days. Now, here she'd become what she despised.

"It's not that. I really haven't _thought_ about it is all. I've been busy and the only future that has occupied my mind is the immediate."

Addison's understanding smile eased Izzie's aching conscience. For a second the world seemed right again and Izzie felt that she might have a chance at having an okay day. But then Mark Sloan walked around the corner and any hope was driven from her.

"Why didn't you pick me?" Izzie was in his face before he'd even caught sight of her. Throughout the day Sloan had avoided her and she'd noticed; he'd never been good at doing things quietly. So, this time she was not going to let him escape so easily.

"What?" As relieved as he was that she was talking to him again, Mark thought he might take her silence over her talking if her voice was going to be so pained.

"You can't say all the things you said and then abandon me. Why didn't you pick me? Why am I with Addison?"

"You hate plastics." Mark could see Addison shaking her head, signaling to him that such an answer would not satisfy.

"That never stopped you before. In fact, it used to encourage you. Besides I don't _hate_ plastics."

"Yes you do."

"I don't like plastics, but I don't hate…"

Her rambling finally convinced Mark that he had to tell her the whole truth. "It was awkward for you. And for me, but that doesn't matter. You weren't you and I couldn't stand the thought that I had done that to you." He paused a moment before admitting, "Derek said to give you space, so that's what I'm doing."

Tears were starting to form in the corner of her eyes, which really pissed her off. _Seriously. How many times am I going to have to cry in this Goddamn hospital?_ "I don't want you to give me space." She didn't know where that came from, but she knew it came from her.

"Then what the hell do you want?" The frustration that had built up over the past few days boiled out of his mouth. "I've tried this and I've tried that and none of it has made you happy." He was angry, but not at her. "Tell me what you want. I'll give it to you, but you're going to have to tell me what it is."

"I don't know what I want." He threw his hands up in the air in defeat. "But I do know that I don't what you give me space. I need you around, okay?" It was in her last word, her shaking voice searching nervously for confirmation, that he realized he'd hurt her feelings.

"I wasn't abandoning you."

"You left me," she cracked.

"I didn't mean to. That was never my intent… I was just doing what I thought was right."

"Leaving me is never the right thing to do."

"I'll remember that in the future," he promised.

"You'd better. Don't you realize how I felt? No warning, no explanation even after… I was left to assume I'd done something wrong or that you just didn't want me anymore."

"I'll never stop wanting you. But, why do you care?"

The question struck Izzie as odd until she paused to actually consider it. _Why do I care?_ Before, she would have celebrated his absence, heralding time without having to be a slave to him as a holiday. Balloons and cake, maybe even fireworks. But now, she felt utterly alone when he wasn't around. It was like she was a child experiencing separation anxiety for the first time. _I don't love him. I love Denny. But maybe…_

* * *

Addison paged Meredith, who came running around the corner so fast that she almost collided with the attending.

"Jeez, Grey!"

"You paged me 911."

"Had I known you were just around the corner and down the hall ten feet I wouldn't have bothered."

"So it's not a 911."

"Technically?"

"You're abusing the privilege!"

"It's about Izzie." Hearing her friend's name silenced her complaints about power-hungry surgeons with superiority complexes.

"What about her? Is she okay? What happened?"

"My God, would you shut-up for a second? She's fine. Soon to be better than fine, I'd imagine." Addison's hinting smile could only mean one thing.

"It's time?"

"Yeah, it's time."

"She's going to hate me," Meredith echoed her own fears from an earlier time.

"No, she won't. She won't even realize you played a part in this."

"Yes, she will. She's intuitive. She'll look at me and she'll just know."

"Stop freaking out! You knew this was coming."

"But I didn't think it was going to happen today!"

"You knew it could happen anytime."

"I know, but it's today!" Addison rolled her eyes at her ex-husband's girlfriend, her current accomplice.

* * *

In the locker room, Izzie was lying on top of the bench, one knee up and her hand on her forehead. Meredith and Cristina walked in, discussing the merits that all the stupid people in the world affording surgeons in need of practice. At the sight of Izzie's reclined form Meredith became silent. Cristina just shook her head.

"You okay?" Meredith asked as she opened her locker.

"I feel feverish. I think I might be sick."

Cristina put her hand on Izzie's forehead, "You're fine, Barbie."

"Seriously, I feel like I'm going faint."

"Maybe you should go home."

"What and miss out on surgery with Addison? I don't think so."

Meredith inhaled one long breath of bittersweet hesitation, before stuttering, "Iz, Derek and I have a date tonight."

Izzie lifted her head and craned her neck around to look at Meredith, "And that relates, how?"

"Well, it doesn't. But we need some alone time together…"

"That's great, Meredith. I'm really happy for you. But we can't all be bright and shiny." She pointed to herself, "See, I am all hot and festering."

"Oh, take some Ibuprofen and stop whining," Cristina spat.

"Iz, I think you're missing the point."

"What's the point? And I hope you two aren't planning to be all loud and… ewww." Izzie tried to shake the memory of the sound of Meredith's banging headboard from her head.

"That's just it. We are."

"Meredith," Izzie groaned. "Some of us need sleep, lots and lots of sleep to function."

"I was going to ask you if you could stay somewhere else tonight."

"What?!" Izzie bolted up from the bench. "This isn't college, Mere, you can't just kick me out of my room to have sex with your boyfriend. I pay rent!"

"Izzie, I would never _make_ you leave. That's why I'm _asking_."

"What about Alex?"

"He's going to stay with Addison for the night." Izzie looked over at Cristina.

"Oh no, there is no way in hell you're staying with me and Burke. We already tried housing George and we are never repeating that mistake."

Izzie turned back to Meredith, "Then where am I supposed to stay?"

* * *

She was waiting by the door when his shift ended, which he hadn't expected but wasn't surprised at either. For some inexplicable reason, it just seemed like a very Izzie thing to do.

"I'm sorry I yelled." She stood when she noticed him making his way towards her.

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Okay then."

"Okay?"

She shrugged. "You didn't think it all the way you through, you didn't try to see it the way I would see it. But neither did I. What you did," she shook her head, at a loss for words. "It was… considerate."

She did it again. There was no end to the number of ways Isobel Stevens could surprise him. "You're a very hard person to figure out."

"Nah, I'm really not. Would you take me home?"

"What, did you miss your ride?"

"Purposely."

"Not that I mind if it means I get to spend more time with you, but Meredith's is a little out of my way…"

"No, not Meredith's."

"Where?"

"I was wondering if…" she started fiddling with the bottom of her jacket, folding it over and over into little pleats. "I was thinking that maybe…" Her fingers traced the shape of her pocket. "I was hoping I could…" He grabbed her hands, putting an end to her anxious movements.

"You can ask me anything."

She looked at him for a moment, studying his face for any sign that he was mocking her. "Maybe you could take me home with you."

"To _my_ place?"

She could only nod, her eyes flashing to everything around the room but him.

Gently with his hand on her chin, he titled her face up. "Look at me." She resisted his gentle prodding. "Hey, look at me." She finally surrendered to his persistence and looked at him, terrified. "I won't say 'no' to you."

"I don't want to…"

"No, I know. You aren't ready for that and that I _would_ say 'no' to."

She couldn't believe she was staring into the eyes of the same man who had once made her literally sick and hearing him say all these perfect things. "Thank you. I just need to swing by Meredith's to get a few of my things."

* * *

A/N: So this site is being fishy, once I uploaded the chapter all the text was bunched up, so I had to space each line of text individually, which I've never had to do before. I don't know what changed, but it is really annoying. You can expect the next chapter up tomorrow, probably late afternoon or evening. Thanks for all the reviews, you guys are amazing!!!


	6. A First Kind:Of Date

**A/N**: Okay, sorry about the screwy-ness about the last chapter's posting. Things seem to be back to normal, but that doesn't mean I won't mess it up without the technicality excuse... Thank you so much for all the inspiring words! My shift at work today was different than I thought, which is why I'm getting to post this early. Chapter 7 will be up tomorrow and then that's the last chapter that is finished, so I've got some work to do...

* * *

**Chapter 6: A First Kind-Of Date**

"I have plenty of those, you know."

Izzie clutched her pillow close to her chest, "I like mine." The inside of his car was dark, which made it impossible to read her expression. He didn't like having to guess what she was feeling just by the tone of her voice; he found it hard enough to do even when he was able to look at her.

"So…" When she didn't readily offer an explanation to his silent question, he decided he'd just ask her straight out, he'd never been a subtle man anyway. "Why am I driving you to my place and not yours?"

"Because you said you would."

"Izzie…" Her name just slipped out his mouth. He'd said it so many times – to himself, to others in reference to her, but never _to her_.

The sound of her name coming from his lips captivated her. She'd always been Stevens to him. Except for insisting he adhere the prefix Dr., she'd never given much thought to what he called her, but now all she could think about was how much she wanted to hear him say her name again. She reached up and turned on the interior lights.

"Say that again."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "Izzie?" She stared intensely at his lips as they formed the sounds of her name. She'd never given a thought to whether or not she liked her name, she just hadn't cared to think about it like that. Izzie wasn't a name, it was her. But hearing his voice pronounce 'Izzie,' convinced her that there was no better name in the world. She turned off the light.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Izzie dismissed the question without a thought. "Meredith and Derek, and I quote, 'need some alone time,' so I got the boot. They're loud though, so I wouldn't have been able to sleep at home even if I had been allowed."

"But why me?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to go," Izzie confessed truthfully, even if it was only part of the truth.

It wasn't the answer he'd been hoping for, but he wasn't going to be picky about how he got to spend time with her. He pulled up to the front of the hotel to let her off before going to park.

"You live in a hotel?"

"I thought you knew." Mark was beginning to have second thoughts about taking the young intern home with him.

"You've been in Seattle for months!"

"Yeah, so?"

"Months! Why aren't you renting an apartment?"

"Too small."

"Then lease a house!"

"I don't have time to go house hunting."

"There are some things in life that are important enough to _make_ time for."

"I don't know how long I'm going to be in town."

"What?"

"The move to Seattle was never meant to be permanent. I came here to get Addison and take her back home to New York."

"You're leaving?" Her voice had grown quiet.

"Not right now. Not yet. Can we not talk about this now?"

"Yeah, sure." She paused a few seconds, "You can't leave!" Her outburst surprised even herself. She wasn't sure where from within her the sentiment had come, except the feeling reminded her of that afternoon when she'd demanded that he 'be around.'

"We'll talk about this later." His voice was firm and it was clear he wasn't asking.

* * *

His feet were stretched out before him and he was lazily flipping though TV stations when she came out of the bathroom.

"Mark?" Fearing that even the weakest pressure would cause the straining remnants of his self-control to fail, he had to fight the urge to turn and look at her.

But she walked over to stand in front of the couch, placing herself between him and the television. "Mark?" He tried to look around her at whatever program was airing, anywhere but directly at her.

"Mark," she repeated. "Where are the blankets? Do you have any?" The question drew his focus away from managing his line of vision.

"What? Are you cold?" He looked up to meet her eyes, concern etched over his face as he momentarily forgot the fact that she was sporting a thin tank top and girlish boxers, which revealed more of her legs than he'd seen in a while. "I could turn down the AC." _But then I'd probably pass out from the heat_, he thought as the air in the room suddenly seemed to be thicker and heavier than it had been just a moment before.

"No, I'm fine. I meant blankets for the couch." This didn't clear things up for him.

"Why does the couch need blankets?"

"For me to sleep in."

"You're not sleeping on the couch," he said simply.

"Well, _you're_ not sleeping on the couch. This is your place and I'm intruding."

"You are NOT intruding. And no, I'm not sleeping on the couch either."

"What?"

"I have a king-size bed, Stevens." A slight pang of agony accompanied the use of her last name. "There is plenty of room for us both and I promise to keep my hands to myself," he smirked. "But I am not wearing a cover-all sweat suit for you."

Despite the confidence he conveyed, he held his breath as she mentally weighed her options.

"Oh my God, you sleep in the nude, don't you?" She faked seriousness. He laughed, but inside he felt a nervous excitement building because he knew then that they'd be sharing a bed that night.

* * *

"So, what do you think they're doing?" Meredith asked as she pulled one card from the pile before her.

"Ten bucks says he's riding her right now."

"Alex!" Addison slapped the back of his head.

"Owww!"

"Twenty says he makes her sleep on the couch without even offering her the bed," Cristina countered.

"Guys! She's our friend, stop betting on her." Meredith frowned as looked at the card she'd pulled. "Shit."

Derek leaned over. "What'd you get?" Meredith snapped her cards closer to her.

"Not terring," she managed as she crunched a tortilla chip.

"Fifty says he offers her his bed, but she sleeps on the couch anyway." All eyes turned toward Burke.

"I never would have thought of you as a betting man, Preston." Addison gave voice to what everyone was thinking.

The astounded silence was interrupted by Cristina's triumphant cry, "I got a match!" She jumped out of her chair, treating everyone, much to Burke's dismay, to a happy dance.

Meredith leaned towards Derek, "You think they'll be okay, right?"

"Mark wouldn't make her do anything she wasn't ready to," he whispered.

In the background, Cristina slammed her fist to the table and grunted as Alex said, "Go fish."

* * *

"That's your side." He pointed to the side of the bed nearest the window.

"Why is that my side?"

"Because I always sleep on this side. Do you want the other side?" He offered.

"No," she said as she climbed into the bed and buried herself beneath the covers. He turned off the lights and followed her in.

He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, but he couldn't relax with her so close to him. She was in his fucking bed and yet he couldn't touch her. _What kind of sick joke is this?_

Next to him she had probably turned over foty-seven times. She just couldn't get comfortable and it had nothing to do with the bed. Not one sound had come from his side for at least ten minutes, so she figured he'd fallen asleep already. After unsuccessfully attempting to talk herself out of what she was about to do, she inched as quietly and slowly as Izzie-ly possible over to him. Studying him for a moment until she was satisfied he really was asleep, she snuggled into his chest.

At the first feel of her body against his, he went completely rigid, his breathing ceased and his heart thumped loudly in his chest. As she settled herself next to him, he relaxed a little, although it wasn't until her breathing steadied that he allowed himself to release the breath he'd been holding.

He hadn't been this nervous around women since the third grade when he'd asked his first crush to be his playground buddy at recess. _Why is this different?_ He had women in his bed before; he'd even had a fair number of women in _this_ bed. Normally such a thought would have elicited a smug smile, but now it made him want to switch rooms so Izzie could sleep in a bed that hadn't been tainted by his exploits.

The rhythm of her chest expanding as she inhaled and contracting as she exhaled gradually calmed his worried mind. Soon the only thing he was picturing was the inside of his eyelids.

* * *

He woke before the alarm, which wasn't unusual for him. The irritating beep that came from the clock pissed him off and he preferred to not start the morning off in a bad mood. _It's hard enough to be in a good mood at four a.m._ So he'd learned to wake up before the offending device was set to blast its harassing call. After years of waking up without the aid of an alarm, he still never trusted himself enough to just not to set it.

He lay beside her, one arm draped over her waist, the other beneath him. Her own hands were folded in loose fists against his chest.

He noted with interest the way the strands of her hair fell across her forehead. Tracing the shell of her ear with his finger he wondered which parent she'd inherited them from. He dropped his hand back over her hips. Everything about her from the curve of her nose to the smooth texture of her skin interested him. He wanted to explore every part of her, learn everything about her.

The sun had begun its ascent and light streamed into the room causing Izzie's eyes to flutter open. Surprise was the first emotion that registered on her face, but it was quickly replaced with something Mark didn't recognize.

"Hello."

He chuckled at her early morning greeting, but said it back. "Hello."

He shifted in the sheets and pulled away from her. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back," he responded without really answering her question. He was gone before she could object and within five minutes of his absence, she'd drifted back off to sleep.

The depression he made when he sat on the bed woke her for the second time that morning.

"That wasn't 'right back,'" she mumbled as she sat up, the blankets falling off her shoulder and pooling around her waist.

"Yeah, well, I hope this makes up for it," he said as he pushed a silver tray into her lap.

"Breakfast in bed?" She asked cheerfully. A goofy grin spread across his face at her excitement. "I didn't know you cooked."

"Well, I do. I'm quite the chef actually."

"Confidence in your own abilities, I'm shocked, Dr. Sloan." Izzie was fully awake now.

"Ha, ha," he mockingly laughed. "It's a necessary skill when you're a bachelor. No housewife to make your meals for you," he joked, leaning against her shoulder. She scowled at the implication. "But I didn't make this."

"What?"

"Room service." He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes, "'Quite the chef,' my ass."

"I am! I'll prove it to you. Have dinner with me tonight."

She rolled a piece of toast around in her mouth, contemplating the invitation. She didn't have any plans, _so no excuses_, she thought dryly. Why should she refuse? She didn't want to. But why should she accept? She wasn't sure she wanted that either.

"7 work for you?"

"Pick you up from Meredith's at quarter 'til?"

"Sounds good." She blushed slightly at the thought of their date and then quickly chided herself for arbitrarily and independently and quite inaccurately renaming dinner, date.

* * *

"So how'd it go?" Meredith asked as she changed into her scrubs the next morning.

"How did what go?" Izzie asked, turning from the mirror in her locker to look at Meredith inquisitively. Meredith looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Realization immediately dawned on Izzie's face. "Oh no, Mere, you didn't. Tell me you didn't. Tell me you have no idea what I'm talking about," Izzie pleaded.

"Now, Iz…"

"You can't be fucking serious!" Izzie slammed her locker shut.

"We just thought you…

"We?! Who is 'we'?" Meredith was mentally beating herself for her big mouth.

"How many people are in on this? Is Mark?" Izzie was headed for the door at what could only be described as a stampede of one.

"No! No, He has no idea." At that, Izzie stopped her purposeful steps and let out a long breath of relief. "Iz, it's not that big a deal."

"Says the playmaker! If you were the pawn, you'd see things way differently." Izzie resumed her march and exited through the door.

Addison walked in a few seconds later, closely followed by Derek. "Wow, you really suck at sneaking," she said to Meredith.

"I could have told you that," Derek laughed.

Meredith crossed her arms and pouted, "It's not funny, guys. She's really mad at me!"

"She'll get over it. Besides there's really no reason for her to be mad at you," Addison pointed out.

"There's a _very_ good reason for her to be mad at me. This is the second time I've betrayed her."

"Give yourself a break, Mere," Derek consoled. "You didn't betray your friend, and she'll realize that in the end."

* * *

The day dragged on at a mind-bogglingly slow pace. Between avoiding Meredith and anyone else who she suspected of playing a hand in what she termed 'the humiliating charity case' and thinking about the quasi-date looming before her, she was sure she'd be certifiably insane before she even got a chance to eat lunch.

However, when her shift did finally end, she thought the evening had come too soon. _It's not like it means anything. It's not a date. You don't have to dress up. He's not even taking you out._ But somehow she didn't believe her own logic. She'd always thought a home-cooked meal was more romantic than any restaurant anyway. She then cursed herself for using the word 'romantic' in conjunction with what was set to happen tonight.

* * *

He was early and she was running late when he rang her doorbell.

"Hey," she smiled as she opened the door and let him in to wait. "I'll just be a second."

He watched in amusement as she ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. After snooping around the lower level for a while, he decided the only thing in the house that really interested him was her. He climbed the stairs and followed the sound of running water to the bathroom. Leaning against the door frame, he watched as she applied pink lip gloss and pressed her lips together.

"I know you're there," she said matter-of-factly as she raised her eyes to meet his through the reflection of the mirror.

She continued to primp, trying various ways of piling her hair atop her head. Three attempts later, she gave up and just let it fall, framing her face.

"It looks best like that anyway." His sincerity caused her to turn around and face him. "You don't need to do any of this, you know," he said gesturing to all the makeup balanced on the edge of the sink. "There's no one to impress and you look better without all of that crap hiding your face." He paused, allowing his eyes to roam over her body. She blushed furiously under his scrutiny. "Come on, dinner's waiting."

* * *

"Wait here." They stood at the threshold of his hotel suit.

"Why?"

"For once can't you just do what you're told?" He teased.

"Hey!" She protested.

"I promise you won't be disappointed. Trust me." His eyes, sparkling blue and gold, so intrigued her that she found herself conceding.

He disappeared through the doorway and, following the sound of hurried steps upon the hardwood floor and the clinking of silverware, he reappeared. "Okay, now close your eyes." Despite her curiosity, she regarded him skeptically. "Trust me, Stevens." He moved behind her and placed his hands over her eyes. After leading her the few paces to the dining table, he whispered softly into her ear, "I'm going to take my hands away, okay?"

"Then can I open my eyes?"

"Mmmhmm." He stopped her from moving forward. "Alright."

"Alright?" His hands fell from her eyes, revealing a jungle of every flower imaginable agreeably arranged around the table. This fantasy world was illuminated by the soft light of thousands of tiny candles, their vanilla scent lulling Izzie's senses into a state of nirvana.

Mark pulled a chair out from the table and guided her into it. He vanished into the kitchen and returned with a plate in hand, which he placed in front of her. With a nervous grin, he sat down across from her, awaiting her reaction.

She just sat there, overwhelmed by the display that she suddenly found herself a part of. "I feel underdressed," she confessed.

"Nah, this isn't formal. I just wanted it to be beautiful for you."

"It _is_ gorgeous. You really did all this yourself?"

"What? You don't think I'm capable?" He pretended to be offended.

"No, it's not that!" She tried to backtrack.

"I'm kidding, Stevens."

She let out an uneasy breath. "It's just a lot. You didn't have to do all this for me."

"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to."

After allowing herself one last long look around, she turned her attention to the plate in front of her. She tried rather unsuccessfully to maneuver the meat out of the lobster shell with the utensils provided. After watching her struggle for a few seconds, he couldn't take it anymore. "It's easier if you use your hands." When his suggestion was met with hesitation, he got up, "Here, let me show you."

He knelt down beside her chair and took her napkin from her lap. "First of all," he said as he tucked the napkin into her shirt, "put this here." Noticing the dubious look she was giving him, he said, "Relax, I don't need an excuse to feel you up."

"I've never done this before."

"Eaten dinner?"

"No," she said as one might say 'duh.' "I grew up in a trailer park. I ate microwavable dinners." As she described the details of her childhood, he extricated the lobster meat and dipped it in the small bowl of melted butter sauce. He held up a piece to her mouth, which she opened unconsciously as she spoke, and he placed it between her lips. The savory taste of the delicate meat delighted her taste buds, but it was the feel of his finger tips still resting on her lips that she found to be most delicious.

After showing her how to crack the lobster shell, he could have returned to his own seat, but he didn't. Instead, he pulled his chair up next to her and continued to feed her.

The messier the meal got, the more comfortable Izzie felt, something Mark hadn't anticipated. By the end, she had the buttery substance all over her face and was laughing loudly at Mark's story about Derek's childhood obsession with hair scrunchies. As their laughter died down, Izzie couldn't help but notice the time.

"Mark, it's getting late." She stood. "I had a really great time and you _are_ 'quite the chef,'" she said, smiling dumbly. "I wish I didn't have to go…"

"Then don't," Mark cut in.

"What?"

"Stay here tonight."

"Mark…"

"Like last night."

"I didn't bring anything with me."

"What do you need? I have a toothbrush you could use, clothes you could sleep in." he was begging, or as close to it as Mark Sloan would ever get. She didn't really need to be convinced anyway.

"Okay," she agreed.

* * *


	7. The Shared Kind Of Dream

**Chapter 7: The Shared Kind Of Dream**

His shirt had a picture of the Kool-Aid man on it and smelled like a combination of cedar and his cologne, which she'd yet to identify. It fit her loosely, so it was, in her mind, the perfect pajama shirt.

"The Kool-Aid man, huh?"

"Long story," he buffered.

"I don't have anywhere to be."

Looking up at her from his position rummaging through his drawer, he stipulated, "You can't laugh."

"I'm not promising anything."

"Then I'm not telling you anything."

"Fine, I won't laugh."

"Promise?"

She held out her pinky to him.

"What? Are you flicking me off in Swedish or something?"

"No, haven't you ever pinky-promised before?"

"What the fuck is that?"

"I guess it makes sense," she said to herself. "It was more of a school girl ritual, now that I think about it. I'm not sure any of the guys in my grade ever did it."

"Stevens!" She snapped out of her reverie.

"Oh! I don't really know how to explain. Here." She walked over to him and positioned his fingers so that only his pinky stuck out. Curling her own pinky around his, she made a motion similar to that of shaking hands. "There."

"That's it?" He'd watched curiously as she'd taken him through the whole affair and felt the end was anti-climactic. "What good is that?"

"It's no better than someone's word, I suppose. But isn't it fun?" Izzie asked rhetorically. Mark cocked a brow. He'd never seen anyone so happy over something so stupid. _I will never understand girls_, he thought. Still, if given the opportunity, he'd do it again just to feel her hand in his.

"You were going to tell me a story, remember?"

"What? Oh, yeah." But he stopped, "It's really a stupid story."

"Mark," she said testily.

"Okay, okay. So when I was eight I was obsessed with the Ninja Turtles."

"Go on."

"I mean, really obsessed."

"I get it."

"I just wanted to make sure, 'cause it all kinda hinges on you understanding how much I loved them. Well, my favorite was Raphael."

"The red one?"

"Right, the red one. That's very important. I wanted to be him. I got the costume for Halloween, but I wore it to school everyday. Even that wasn't enough. I knew I was only pretending. I wanted to actually _be_ Raphael."

She was biting her lip, of which he was keenly aware. So he interrupted his story, "It doesn't bode well for you that you're having this much trouble not laughing now. This is only the background information. Anyway, I was convinced that to become Raphael I had to eat only foods that were red."

"Wait, where'd you get that idea."

He looked off for a second, "A friend, my best friend actually, suggested it and I had to try. So for the next couple months, ketchup, apples, and anything red were staples of my diet."

She smiled goofily at him, at which he said, "Yeah, uh-huh."

"One day I caught the end of a commercial for Kool-Aid. I didn't like Hawaiian Punch, so all this time I'd been searching for a red drink. Anyway, by the next day I was drinking red Kool-Aid by the gallon. I took it in my lunch box to school mixed in a bottle of water. This went on for weeks. I swear, my sweat was turned red during that time."

"I believe it," she laughed. When he raised his eyebrows, she defended. "I'm not laughing at you, just at your description."

"Well, one weekend I went over to a friend's house to play. My nanny made sure to give my friend's mother my red Kool-Aid when she dropped me off. That afternoon, we went to an amusement park, you know, the kind where there are costumed characters roaming about. When my friend's mom saw the Kool-Aid man, she immediately directed us towards him. Now, the Kool-Aid man is a big dude." Mark held out his arms, simulating his pitcher body. "And I'd never seen him before. I didn't know what he was. I mean, come on, the Cheetos' mascot is a cheetah, not a big cheese puff with legs and arms! Who thought a jar of Kool-Aid was a good idea, really?"

"You weren't… were you?"

Mark gave her an emotionless look that somehow managed to explain the situation quite clearly. "As I realized where she was taking us, I stopped walking. But she thought _he_ was reason I was addicted to Kool-Aid and that I would want to meet the real Kool-Aid man, so she dragged me a long. The closer we got the more scared I became. I was screaming and crying when it was time to greet him. The poor woman didn't know what to do with me. She didn't have a clue what she'd done wrong. But I was too afraid to care about the scene my tantrum was causing. Whoever the kid in the costume was, he must have thought giving me a hug would make whatever happened to me all better. He, of course, wasn't aware that the thing that happened to me was him. So he wrapped his furry, red arms around me and I…"

Izzie was listening intently, her hand clutched over her mouth, her eyes watering. "You…"

"I had an accident." She burst into a fit of giggles, making his cheeks tint red. He looked away, "You promised…" He wasn't really angry with her, but she had promised.

"Mark," she said between laughs, "I'm sorry." She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. When he tried to pull away, she held on tighter.

She finally let go and leaned around so she could look at his face. "But why'd you buy the shirt?"

"I didn't. It was a gift, many years later, from that friend of mine, the boy whose mother nearly killed me." She chuckled at his exaggeration. "Derek."

Suddenly, he was very aware of the fact that she was touching him. He cleared his throat, "So do you want to use the shower first?"

"You can. I'll probably take longer than you anyway." He nodded in agreement and removed himself from the room.

At the first sound of the spray of the shower, she started exploring his hotel room. She felt guilty about looking through his things, but it was just in her nature. She had an undeniable desire to find out everything she could about him, and what people kept in their drawers and even how they kept their drawers said a lot about them. For example, his dresser was very organized; nothing was out of place, so she concluded that in life he didn't like obscure edges. Instead, he liked things to be cleanly cut. Not a huge surprise, he's a surgeon after all. Still, she wasn't sure how much to attribute to an anal personality or to the daily presence of a maid. Also, despite having only planned to come to Seattle for a short time, Mark had brought a lot of clothes. She quickly deciphered the he had difficulty leaving the past behind. She couldn't really blame him for not leaving these clothes in New York, though. The suits all bore designer labels. He had an expensive taste. She noted that he'd also accumulated a large collection of books in a short time. She didn't know what that said about him, but she'd always found being well-read an admirable trait.

She was sitting cross-legged beside the open drawer of his night-stand, flipping through one of the novels, when Mark asked sternly, "What are you doing?"

Jumping at the unexpected sound of his voice, she dropped the book. She hadn't heard the water turn off. "I'm, I'm…" she stumbled, discretely sliding the drawer closed.

"Does 'invasion of privacy' mean anything to you?" At the sight of her chewing her bottom lip nervously, he broke into laughter.

"Jerk!" She bent down, retrieved the book that had fallen and threw it at him.

"You should have seen your face, Stevens!"

"Stop laughing at me!" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh, come on, you laughed at me! Have a sense of humor." He walked over to where she was standing.

"That was different."

"Yeah, you're right. You promised not to. I didn't promise anything."

"Nooo, this time it's me!" Her reasoning just made his laughter worse, which just made her angrier. She began hitting his chest weakly. His reaction was instantaneous. He scooped her up over his shoulder and carried her to the bed, which he dropped her onto. Then, with a wicked grin, he proceeded to tickle her.

At first she didn't know what had happened. But his fingers on her sides quickly brought her up to speed. The next thing she knew her arms were flying and her legs were kicking, as she tried to escape his touch. She was oblivious to all but the blend of his laughter and her own.

He straddled her to keep control, but immediately after doing so he wished he hadn't. Their laughter stopped and only the sound of their heavy panting could be heard. The situation suddenly didn't seem funny anymore.

The weight of his body above hers made her feel like she was floating; a paradox, which she didn't identify until later. But what happened next sent her head spinning.

Before he rolled off of her, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. It was a simple kiss, quick and soft, but when he pulled back, Izzie felt like her lips were on fire.

He offered her his hand and helped her sit up. "I should go take my shower now," she said motioning in the direction of the bathroom.

As she scooted out of the bedroom, he thought he could use another shower, an ice cold one.

When she came out of his bathroom in his boxers and climbed into his bed, he pretended for a moment that she was his too. But the moment passed and he let his attention shift to the future when she might truly be his. With that comforting thought of possibility along with the encouraging fact that this night she didn't wait until she thought he was asleep to snuggle close to him, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Where is she?" Meredith snarled as she turned on the lights in Alex's room for the fifth time that night. He didn't have anything left to throw at her or he would have, everything ranging from pillows to condoms were scattered on the floor near the door.

"Who cares?"

"I do. We both do."

"Not at three in the morning I don't," he grumbled.

"What if she's in trouble?"

"She's not."

"What if she is? You'll feel really guilty if she shows up to the hospital tomorrow on a gurney."

"Yes, I'll feel guilty _if_ that happens."

"So let's do something!"

"What do you want me to do, Meredith? She could be anywhere. She could still be at the hospital for all you know. It's not our responsibility to know where she is every second of every day. We're not her keeper."

He had a point. Meredith let out a frustrated groan and left his room. When he heard the click of his door, he got up out of his bed and pushed his dresser in front of it.

* * *

"Morning," Izzie chirped as Meredith entered the locker room. "Wow, you look like shit."

"Thanks," Meredith said hoarsely. "I didn't sleep very much last night."

"Oh?"

"Where were you?"

"Here."

"At the hospital?" She croaked in disbelief.

"No, at Joe's. Yes, at the hospital! That's what 'here' means." Izzie shook her head scornfully, "You really should get more sleep, Mere."

Alex, who'd walked in moments earlier, grabbed Meredith's poised fists and steered her away from her blissfully unaware target.

* * *

She walked into the house and threw her keys on the table. Her day felt empty. The last time she'd seen Mark was in the morning when they'd walked into the hospital together. She'd refused to be dropped off, knowing that she probably wouldn't get to see him again that day. But it wasn't until she got home that she realized how much that affected her mood. She went straight to the kitchen.

Two hours later, she was surrounded by pots and pans each filled with some sweet concoction. Flour powdered her face and clung to her hair, which was tied back in a loose ponytail. Frosting was smeared across her forehead and chocolate stained her nose.

"What the hell?" Alex exclaimed as he walked toward the fridge.

"I'm baking."

"What's wrong?" Meredith took a seat, then leaned into Derek, who had tailed in behind her and explained, "She bakes when she's upset."

"Oh," he nodded. "What are you making?" He directed his question to his Izzie.

"Double butter, fudge brownies, yellow cake, and swirl cupcakes."

"Is that all?" Alex asked sarcastically.

Izzie's eyes shot daggers at him, but softened when Derek said, "Smells good."

"You really are McDreamy." Derek shifted embarrassedly from one foot to the other. "Sorry. It's just I'm suddenly aware…"

Derek peered out of the corner of his eye at Meredith who raised her shoulders and shook her head.

"Aware?" Meredith questioned.

"Yes, aware. I've been lost." Grabbing a wooden spoon, she cradled a large bowl in her one arm and began stirring its contents. "I'd forgotten, you know?"

Meredith looked to Alex for guidance, but he was just as clueless as she was. "No, I don't think we do, Iz. Can you explain?"

"Explain?! Seriously, you almost died, you of all people should understand!" Her stirring grew frantic.

"Must be the hormones," Alex whispered to Derek.

"Understand what?" Izzie slammed the spoon down, snapping it into half.

"What it's like to have a second chance! To get to live again. To want to." She realized what she'd done to the spoon "Shit. This one was my favorite," she grumbled as she held its pieces before her.

"We'll get you another one, Iz," Meredith assured her.

"Yeah, it doesn't matter." She pushed the few short strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes out of her face. "I'm going to bed."

"Want some help cleaning this up?"

"S'okay, I'll get it." After covering the bowl with saran wrap and throwing it into the refrigerator, she gathered the others and tossed them into the sink.

Meredith and Derek filed out and headed to bed.

Scrubbing away at the dishes, Izzie didn't see Alex wiping off the counter. But in the process of the loading the dishwasher, she noticed he was still in the room.

"I said I'd get it."

"And I helped anyway. Deal with it," he smiled.

"Don't think this means you can help yourself to those," she pointed to the various treats scattered around the counter.

"Are they a present?"

"Nope."

"Then why can't I have a taste?"

"Because."

"Because…?"

"Because they're not for you."

"Which means they must be for someone else. Which is the definition of present!"

"They're not a present, but they are for someone."

"All of them?"

"No."

"Well, which ones?"

"I don't know yet. That's why you can't eat any of them."

"After you decide can I eat what you don't take?"

"Yes, okay, are you satisfied?"

"Yup, just hurry up and choose." Izzie rolled her eyes at his impatience. "He'll like whatever you bring him." She was speechless. "Night, Iz," When he was out of sight, a euphoric smile lit her face. In this state of elation she finished putting the silverware in the dishwasher and then climbed the stairs to her room.

* * *

She'd been lying in bed for two hours, the majority of the first had been spent agonizing over which dessert she wanted to give him. No matter what she tried she couldn't fall asleep. She'd tried reading a book that she'd never been able to get to the second chapter in and ended up reading through chapter three. _It'd gotten interesting_, she rationalized. She'd lain in every position imaginable: on her right side, the left, on the other side of the bed, with two pillows and then none, with her head at the foot of the bed. Nothing had worked. Finally, she gave up and gave in.

Reaching for the phone, she dialed the number she'd used her free time at work that day to memorize. The voice that answered was sleepless but clearly exhausted.

"Hello?"

"Mark?"

"Isobel?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"What's wrong?"

She thought about saying 'nothing,' but besides being a lie, it would defeat the purpose of the conversation. "I can't sleep." She heard him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Why'd you call?"

"Because I can't sleep," she snapped. "Sorry, I get mean when I'm tired."

"Well, what can I do?" The silence on the other end of the line propelled him to speak again, "Izzie?"

"This is your fault, you know."

"What? How?"

"I've never had trouble sleeping alone until you. I mean I've always slept better with someone, but I never found it impossible to sleep alone."

"Do you want me to come get you?"

"Or you could stay over."

"At Meredith's? You think they're ready for that? Are you ready for that?" Mark sounded uncertain.

"Are you?"

"There'd be questions and looks."

"I thought you were impenetrable."

"I was thinking about you."

"Oh," she sucked in air. "Look, I don't know if I'm ready for this or if I can handle the questions. But I want to be. And I do know that I can't sleep without you, so please…"

"I'll see you in a few," Mark disconnected the call. _Thank God, I don't think I could have handled my day tomorrow without sleep._ He'd been staring at the ceiling since getting into bed, his mind too occupied with thoughts of her to slip into unconsciousness.

She was waiting on the porch when he pulled into the driveway.

"What are you smiling at?" He asked drowsily as he jumped out of his car in flip-flops, boxers, and a T-shirt. He knew the answer before she gave it, but it thrilled him that he could make her smile like that.

"You."

She wobbled a little from exhaustion, so he slid his arm around her waist. "You ready for bed?"

"So ready," she yawned.

"Good. Me too."

They walked up to her room and fell into bed. Without waiting for her to slide close to him, he pulled her back to his chest and buried his face in her hair. When she whispered, "Thank you," he kissed the back of her neck just below the ear and murmured, "You're welcome."

* * *

**A/N**: The title of the last chapter was meant to be written like "Kind-Of" not the "Kind:Of" that I ended up using, but they don't seem to let you have those little dash marks in the title, poohy. This is the last of the completed chapters, though I do have chapter 8 in the works. Special thanks to my reviewers, you guys make my day!


	8. Those Difficult Kinds Of Words

**A/N**: I can't edit this again, I've revised, added, and deleted so many times, (I even moved on to the next chapter and then came back hoping to get a fresh look) yet that satisfaction that usually precedes posting a chapter still eludes me. It's not awful (at least I don't think), I even like it okay, but I just have that feeling – you know the one where you think you've left something but don't know what it is, well I'm sick of trying to figure out what that is and it's time for an update. It's long (as are my comments), so be forewarned.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Those Difficult Kinds Of Words**

The smell of coffee filled the kitchen, which, Mark observed, was already crowded with various baked goods.

"So what are all these?" Mark asked pointing to the scattered plates and pans.

"Well… I bake."

"You bake?"

"I bake." She decided to omit the 'when I'm upset' part and sidestep what she believed would be an overreaction. "I was going to bring one to the hospital to give to you, you know, as a 'thank you' for dinner. Kind of like you bring dinner and I bring dessert, albeit a little late."

"This isn't the kind of dessert I had in mind."

"Mark!"

"Sorry, I can't help it. Besides, what do you expect?"

"Have some self-control," she teased.

"You have no idea the level of self-control I've been exercising lately."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what, never mind."

"Mark…"

Without arguing but also without yielding, he returned to the subject of her baking. "Why make so many if you were only going to give me one?"

"Well, I didn't know what you like. So I just made everything I could with the ingredients I found in the fridge."

"Why can't I have them all?"

"Greedy, much?"

"Not all of everything, but a little bit of each."

She stared blankly at him. "Yeah, that would work. _Damn it_, that works." He looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "I just wasted so much time trying to pick, you know. I don't know why I didn't think of that," she explained.

"You worry too much," he said as he tried a cupcake.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm eating my dessert."

"It's six in the morning! You can't eat chocolate this early." He shoved a piece of cupcake in her face, which she promptly wiped away.

"Gross."

"You made it."

"Shut up." He just smirked at her.

"So should I just take you home after your shift to avoid another midnight call?"

"No."

"What? That's fine, but don't expect me to…"

"I have the day off," she interrupted. "So you can either come here after work and stay or pick me up."

"Well, alright then." He pulled out a chair and sat down.

Sitting across from each other, Mark reading the newspaper and Izzie chewing a muffin, felt delightfully domestic. But the illusion was short-lived, as sound from above gave evidence of waking people.

Mark peered over the paper at her, waiting for the command he knew was coming. She gave him an apologetic look, but they'd both agreed it would just be easier if he left unseen. Still, Izzie couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"If you don't tell me to, I won't."

"Please don't make this harder than it already is. We need easy, remember?"

"Just say it."

"Mark, don't make me, please. I don't want to."

It was this admission that he'd wanted to hear. Knowing that she wanted him near, that she couldn't tell him to leave, was thrilling. Of course, it also made leaving her side that much harder. "Okay, I'm going," he said as he threw back the rest of his cup of coffee.

"Just like that?"

"Now who's making it difficult?"

"You're right. Just… I'm fine. I'll see you later. Whatever." She gave him a very unconvincing half-smile.

He stood, leaned across the counter and kissed her forehead. "Okay." He walked out of the kitchen and she felt herself waver.

The sound of the front door closing was closely followed by footsteps on the stairs. Meredith, who had watched wordlessly from the top of the stairway as Mark snuck out, entered the kitchen just as Izzie started to sniffle.

"What the hell did he do to you?" At this, Izzie wept openly. Meredith was instantly by her side. "It'll be okay. You'll be okay, Iz. I'll kick his frat boy ass for you."

"No," Izzie choked out between sobs. "I don't want you to kick his ass."

"What? You want to do it yourself? I'm sure Alex and Cristina would double team him if you asked."

"No, I don't want anyone to kick his ass." Izzie dabbed at her tears with her sleeve.

"What do you want?"

"Him."

"What?"

"I can't fucking help myself. I want him! I, Izzie Stevens, want Mark Sloan."

"What _did_ he do to you?" Meredith's voice had fallen to scarcely above a whisper.

Izzie looked up hopelessly, her eyes large and round. "He made me fall in love with him."

* * *

"Meredith, look out!" Izzie clutched her seatbelt as Meredith swerved through traffic.

"When I saw him in your bed, I didn't know what to think. I mean, I figured sex."

"You saw us in bed together?"

Meredith continued to talk over her question. "But that hardly tells you anything, you know? So when I saw him leave this morning and found you crying I thought it must have been drunken sex, that he'd taken advantage."

"Watch the road!" Izzie screamed. She was really starting to sweat now.

"And after all our talks…"

"Talks?"

"I thought he must be a new breed of jackass to use you."

"He didn't take advantage."

"Well, clearly. I know that now."

"I mean we didn't sleep together. Well, technically we did _sleep_ together. But we didn't have sex."

Meredith slammed on the breaks.

"Damn it, Meredith!"

"You guys didn't have sex last night?"

"No. Or the night before. Or the night before that."

"Wait, you were with McSteamy that night?!"

Izzie looked a little sheepish. "Yeah," she admitted.

"I stayed up all freakin' night worrying about you."

"Oh, shut up. You have no right, no right whatsoever to complain. You engineered the first night I had to sleep with him. If anyone is yelling at anyone, I should be yelling at you. I still haven't forgiven you for that, you know. You went behind my back…" Meredith parked and jumped out of the car and Izzie followed. "You went behind my back and set me up, just like that stupid car ride. Wait… Meredith what am I doing?"

"We're finding McSteamy."

"No, I know what _we're_ doing. What am _I_ doing?"

"You're telling him how you feel."

"What the hell am I supposed to say?"

"You'll know when you see him."

"Bullshit! I am not walking into that hospital without having, at the very least, a rough outline of what I'm going to tell him."

"We don't have time for you to formulate a plan," Meredith lectured. "We're here."

"I'm not budging!" Meredith rolled her eyes and started pushing Izzie forward.

"You are surprisingly strong for such a tiny person," Izzie laughed.

"And you are surprisingly heavy," Meredith strained.

"Hey!"

"Well, walk!"

Izzie sighed and grudgingly trudged towards the hospital entrance.

"Thank you."

"I still don't know what to say to him."

"You're not proposing. This doesn't have to be perfect."

"Trust me I'm not aiming for perfect just not humiliating."

"How could this be humiliating?"

"There are so many ways this could go wrong, I don't even want to think about it. What if he doesn't feel the same way?"

"I thought he already told you how he felt."

"He did. But he didn't say he loved me."

"He didn't say the word 'love' or he didn't say he loved you?"

"What's the difference?"

"There's a very big difference."

"He didn't use the word love, if that's what you're asking. So obviously he didn't say he loved me, either."

"You know, Iz, you're a smart girl, but you can be a little dense sometimes," Meredith said as she smacked Izzie's forehead.

"Owww! What was that for?"

"Don't be an idiot. There are thousands of ways to tell someone you love them without actually saying those three little words."

* * *

"Dr. Grey, I'm a little busy here," Mark said without looking up from the patient he was operating on.

"When will you be done?"

"These things take time."

"Mark…" Mark turned to look at her. "Dr. Sloan," she corrected. But after that she lost focus. "You're such an ass." All eyes turned toward her and, feeling like calling the attending an ass was probably more severe an act of subordination than calling him by his first name, Meredith made a move to leave.

"Meredith," he called after her. "What is it?"

"It's Izzie." Even through his surgical mask, she could see the faint traces of panic. "She's not hurt or anything. She just has to talk to you."

"That's it? You interrupted my surgery to tell me your friend needs to talk to me?" As her features hardened, he realized he'd crossed a line. Meredith marched over to him and whispered harshly in his ear.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Are you putting on a show? This kind of shit isn't going to fly with her, you know that, right? I mean, seriously? _My friend?_" Meredith stood for a beat, regarding him carefully. As she turned to walk out the door, she added, "And it's important, what she has to say."

"_Damn it_." He cursed under his breath.

"Well?" Izzie asked apprehensively as Meredith strode out of the OR.

"We're going home."

"Why?"

"It's a long surgery." Despite not having thought of a single thing she was going to say to him, Izzie looked more disappointed than relieved. "You'll see him tonight."

"Yeah," Izzie said unhappily. _But tonight isn't now_.

"It'll give you time to think."

"Yeah."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"It's what I wanted five minutes ago, but it's not what I want now."

"Huh?"

"I was scared, you know? Scared to tell him because he might not say it back."

"But you're not anymore?"

"No. I'm even more scared. With every passing moment that I'm not next to him I realize how hard I've fallen. Scared is an understatement. I'm terrified. I don't think I could live without him. I wouldn't want to. But it's scarier having to sit here and wonder, thinking that this might be over before it even has a chance to begin, than it would be to just know. If I told him right now I'd get my answer, even if it's the one I don't want. That'd be it, you know? I hate not knowing."

"I've been where you are."

"And?"

"Sometimes it's better not knowing."

"That's not what I wanted to hear."

"You're right. When you don't know, you feel like you're suffocating. You just wish someone would put you out of your misery, whether that means breathing air into your lungs or putting a bullet in your head. But you forget you also have that hope that someone is waiting for you with oxygen on hand. Right now you just want to know whether it's life or death. But right now life is also a possibility. When you finally get your answer, it could be death and then even the possibility of life would be gone. So don't think that not knowing is the worst thing."

"Great pep-talk, Mere. Way to spread the bright and shiny!"

"I have trouble maintaining my own bright and shiny, don't expect me to try to guard yours too! Besides you wouldn't want me to lie to you."

"Maybe, in this case, I wish you would."

"No. Thinking you know and being wrong is worse than not knowing or knowing." Izzie scrunched up her face. "Come on, let's go."

"But this is my day off!"

"Exactly. That's why we are _leaving_ the hospital."

"I'm going to waste my entire day thinking about this. I get one day off in three weeks and I'm spending it in purgatory!" She complained

"Am I going to have to push you again?"

* * *

"SHUT UP!" Izzie yelled at the oven timer as she slid across the kitchen floor. "You're so impatient!" She peered into the oven and then reset the timer for another five minutes.

When Mark opened the door all he saw was a blur of color running from room to room. The hallway was strewn with every cleaning product he'd ever heard of and a few he hadn't. For a second he felt the need to walk out of the house and check the address, he was sure he'd never seen Meredith clean. But then he heard her voice.

In response to an alarm that had started to beep, she hollered, "Meredith, could you get that?" When no answer came, she screamed, "MEREDITH! Damn it, fine, I'll get it. Have to do everything… Mark," she froze at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled at her appearance. An apron was tied messily around her waist, her hair looked like it'd been through a hurricane, her glasses were balanced crookedly on her nose, and a sock was higher up on one leg than the other.

"I finished my surgery."

"So this is your lunch break? And you chose to come here? Don't get me wrong, you're welcome here." As she rambled on, he made his way over to where she was standing. "But this certainly wouldn't be my first choice. Seriously, the house is a mess most of the time and grocery shopping, well it doesn't happen regularly. We have a schedule." He removed her glasses from her face and studied them. "But we don't always have time to follow it." She stopped talking, watching his actions curiously.

"I didn't know you wore glasses."

"Just to read."

"You're not reading."

"I was. I was reading a recipe…oh, crap!" She ran into the kitchen and pulled out the casserole. It was a little brown, more so than she would have liked, but it wasn't ruined. Shutting off the oven, she turned to face him. "You never really answered my question."

"Well, it's actually you that has some explaining to do. What did you want to talk to me about this morning?"

She flushed. _I'm not ready. I'm not ready for this. I'm so not ready for this_. "I… I… I don't remember," she stuttered lamely.

The kind, but amused smile on his face told her what he was thinking before he opened his mouth. "I don't believe you." He grabbed her hand and led her over to the couch. Taking a seat, he pulled her into his lap. "What's up?"

Staring down at her hands, her voice barely audible, she mumbled, "I don't want to tell you."

"Yes, you do. You wouldn't have gone to the hospital to find me if you didn't."

"It sucks that you're a surgeon, so freakin' smart."

"You love it." Her eyes flashed up to meet his.

_He has to know. He can't not know_.

"So, spill. What is it?"

"Mark, I…"

"Yes?"

Her gaze returned to her hands, lying restlessly on her knees. "You know."

"That's not going to work. It's not enough." He had to hear her say it. He wouldn't believe it otherwise.

She took a deep breath and then looked up at him. "Mark, I'm in love with you."

He wasn't surprised at her declaration, but he wasn't expecting what it'd do to him. He'd thought about this moment over and over again since he'd had her sandwiched between him and the wall that one fateful day. He'd imagined how it'd feel to hear her say those words. But nothing prepared him for the reality. It was like he felt everything all at once, the systematic firings of his nerve endings, the warm flow of blood through his veins, the tension in the fiber of his muscles, everything. He was alive.

"I know that this is… fast. I mean, it hasn't even been a week, has it?" As she continued on, he realized he hadn't responded.

"It's been exactly a week."

"Really?"

"Yes, I've been keeping track."

"You've been keeping… why?" She wrinkled her nose.

"Do you remember _that_ day?"

"Unfortunately."

"Do you remember what I told you?"

"You said a lot of things."

Pain crossed his features as he felt a twinge at the memory and the fact that it had so visibly stayed with her. "Yeah, well, it was after you said I couldn't seduce you. I said," he paused aware that what he was saying could come off very wrong. "You'd be under me by the end of the week." The tensing of her features told him she was offended. Bringing up that day was something he'd hoped never to have to do, but it was part of their history together. He couldn't change what he'd done and he didn't want to forget or he'd be vulnerable to repeat those same mistakes. Knowing that he'd have to deal with his fair share of the unpredictable, he figured he needed to avoid all the mistakes that he possibly could. He couldn't lose her. She was…

"Is that what I am to you? A challenge…" He wasted no time silencing her panicked accusations with his lips. She responded at first, but quickly pulled back looking angrier.

"You are a challenge, but that has nothing to do with why I'm sitting here on your couch. Everything I've said to you, everything I've done with you…" He sighed. "Izzie, I'm not messing around here. This is it. You are it."

Seeing that she wasn't going to be convinced by rhetoric, (_even if that rhetoric was romantic as hell, _he thought) he decided to rely on the evidence of sincerity in his actions.

"Izzie, you are the only woman I have ever taken to bed with me and not slept with."

"I believe _that_. But how do I know that you weren't just not sleeping with me then so you could sleep with me now?"

He laughed, which he realized was an inappropriate reaction by the way she shifted in his lap. "Since when are you so insecure?"

"Mark, I love you, I really do, but you're still a mystery to me. I don't know what to think. Most men are either looking for a relationship or an easy lay. I thought I had you figured out. But then you changed my mind. Now I honestly don't know what to think."

"Izzie," he shushed her. "I'm not heartless."

"I didn't mean to imply…"

"Let me finish. I would never work this hard just for sex. Besides, I wouldn't have to. There are very few women who would refuse me," he joked lightly.

"Well, if you want them then don't waist your time on me." He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly against him.

"That's just it. I don't want them. I want you and only you." His voice dropped. "I love you."

She turned around in his lap to face him. For a long moment she merely sat there looking at him, staring with fascination into his eyes as one might a telescope lens. Then she slowly leaned in, for the first time initiating a kiss between them. He eagerly responded, his hands moving behind her head and into her hair. She allowed his tongue to part her lips and explore her mouth. A soft moan made its way from her throat.

"Mark…" Her hands crawled down his chest to tug on the bottom of his shirt.

"Izzie, maybe we should move…"

"Oh, shit!" Meredith blurted as she stumbled from the room, her hands covering her eyes. "I didn't see anything. I'm on my way out right now!"

Heat radiated from Izzie's cheeks and she dropped her forehead against his chest.

"If I wasn't so freakin' grateful for her misguided meddling, I would _so _kill her." He laughed into her hair. Once she heard the door slam, which for doing so Meredith yelled "Sorry," and then yelled, "Sorry," a second time for having yelled so loudly the first, Izzie cleared her throat, "So… what is this?"

"This is a boyfriend who really wants to have sex with his girlfriend."

"Nooo, I meant…"

He kissed her with every word he spoke "I. Know. What. You. Meant."

"Girlfriend?" She whimpered as his lips moved down her neck.

"That okay with you?" He asked, his fingers unbuttoning her shirt. In the state of delirium his mouth had put her, she could only nod. When she pulled at the drawstrings of his scrubs, he scooped her into his arms and carried up to her bedroom, softly laying her on the bed.

**(A/N**: **READ** before continuing – from here to the end, this chapter is rated M.

Mark pulled off his own shirt before sliding Izzie's off her arms. Placing her hands against his torso, she kissed his chest, right above his heart. At this tender gesture, he stopped. "Are you sure that…"

"I want you," she declared simply, beautifully. Then she reached behind her back and unclipped her bra and he needed no more persuasion.

He gently pushed her back into the bed and slid her jeans over her hips. The image of Izzie before him in only her panties took his breath away.

"God you're beautiful. Those photos don't do you justice," he whispered as he traced the edge of her panty line, causing her to whimper. He placed a kiss on her tattoo. "You're going to have to tell me about that."

"Later," she moaned. He kissed up her abdomen to her breasts, covering one with his mouth. She mumbled something he couldn't make out.

"What?" He asked, removing his mouth from her breast, only to replace it with his hand, causing her to writhe at his soft touch.

"Take off your clothes." He smirked before pushing his pants off. "And come here." He crawled up her body and captured her lips. In response, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, locking her mouth against his.

With the pads of his fingers he drew a path from her chin, along her jaw, down her throat, across her collar bone, down her side to her hipbone, just barely grazing her breast as he went.

"I need you, now, Mark." He smiled against her lips. As he lightly brushed his fingers over her panties, she gasped.

"God, Izzie, you're so wet."

"Mark…" He hooked his fingers through her panties and quickly removed them.

"Please," she whimpered as his mouth hovered over hers. "Take me."

That was it for him. Any semblance of self-control was forgotten and a need to indulge her fantasy replaced it. "I love you," he whispered into her ear before entering her.

As he moved within her, she was sure she could feel him everywhere in her body. The scent of him, the taste of him, the feel of him, her every sense was overwhelmed by this man.

Mark couldn't get enough of the feel of her underneath him. His hands roamed over every inch of her skin, memorizing every scar, every freckle.

It wasn't long before she felt herself nearing her climax. "I'm so close," she groaned.

He moved his arms to either side of her head and pressed himself harder into her. Completely covered by his body, she felt herself fall into a sensory enlightenment.

"Oh, God… Mark!"

Hearing her voice call his name brought him to his own peak, after which he collapsed on top of her. For a moment they remained as they were, content with the world and their place in it.

He rolled leisurely over, pulling her with him. As she rested on top of his chest, drifting in and out of sleep, he placed butterfly kisses along the curvature of her neck. Unable to resist the urge to touch her, he ran his index finger up and down the length of her spine, causing her to shiver.

"I never want to get out of this bed," he breathed.

"Makes you wonder why you didn't ask me out sooner, doesn't it?" She teased drowsily.

"I tried, but you were so damn stubborn…" He pulled her up to his face, her lips inches from his own. "We have all afternoon and night to make up for the lost time," he said huskily. And without another sound, he eliminated the space between them.

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry for the interruption, I hate to insert such comments in the middle of a scene, but if I would have posted it at the top of the chapter that would have kind of given away how it was going to end.

Okay, so I'm seeing some drama in the future… I mean, there was some struggling to get together in the first place, so there's going to have to be some struggling to stay together, it's only logical, right? I don't know how much further I will take this story though, I have at least 3 ideas for other fics (all McStizzie-centric) that I'd really like to start and I'm not the kind of person to juggle multiple storylines – I screw even screw-proof things up, so there's no sense in me putting myself in a position where I have to keep my characterizations and plots from getting confused.

I figured it's about time to holler a big, giant thanks again to those reviewers who have followed this story all this time – I know my writing is a little rusty and the story idea isn't really novel, but you've all made me feel so spectacular and I definitely have renewed faith in the destiny that is McStizzie. So, though I'm sure you know who you are, here it goes:

**LW107**: Lilly, as always, I love reading your reviews because I regard your own writing so highly. I was sad to hear that Vanilla was just a one-shot, I also felt a little stupid after I posted the review and saw that the story's status was 'complete,' the fic just had me floating on a cloud, I couldn't concentrate on much else. Anyway, I do like to include funny and try to keep things light-hearted, I like the happy ending, you know? But drama is coming, nothing too heavy I don't think, but I do have this somewhat evil urge to test the relationship.

**Amnesie**: Between you and Lilly, I have the best role models for McStizzie poetry. Reading your stories always inspires me to try a little harder, think a little more creatively. So thank you for taking the time to review this, it keeps me inspired.

**Murgy31**: I'm so glad you reviewed my story 'cause I was able to find your story through it! I really love how a lot of the people who've reviewed this have their own McStizzie fic – we have to keep fighting the good fight. :)

**JustMe-xo**: Your reviews continue to make me feel all warm and fuzzy! I'm right there with you, wanting to squeeze Mark – I'm vaguely aware that I've been writing him as kind of a very McDreamy McSteamy, that's how I picture Mark in love (plus when a girl – or at least this girl – has a pen in hand, she can't help but write the guy to be the kind of man she'd fall in love with). I do think Mark's charming and romantic, which I hope we get to see more of next season on GA – the writers really haven't revealed much of Mark's story and there's just so much potential there.

**musicforlife**: Tawny, thank you so so much for your flattering review!!! I totally agree with you about the George thing, Gizzie absolutely makes me nauseous! They're great as friends and I absolutely adore George (though the writers seemed to have really written him out of character this last season, he's been in such a dark place), but I never saw them as anything more, so I thought we kind of got slapped in the face with that one – one moment Izzie's having this beautiful 'moment' with Denny (after that 3-ep Mere drowns arc) and then she's having adulterous, drunken sex with her best friend, ummm, no… just no. Okay, I'm done rambling now. Anyway, I'm sooo glad you found yourself on this website! It's such a huge compliment to have a number one fan, hehe!

Even if you didn't get a personal shout out, I love all of you who are reading this!!!

* * *


	9. The Kind Of History That Is Never Past

**Chapter 9: The Kind Of History That Is Never Truly Past**

Lying in what he'd decided he would from that moment on refer to as 'their' bed, with his arms tucked behind his head, Mark wondered aloud "What do you want?"

"Seriously? _You_ are asking _me_?" Izzie laughed uncertainly.

"Well, you can ask me if you want to… but I'm not sure you want to know." With one arm she dramatically propped herself up.

"Okay, you can't do that."

"Do what?"

"You can't take me to bed with you and then the next morning tell me you don't want me."

"I didn't say…"

"You did."

"Look, I don't know what you heard, but all I said was you probably don't want to know what I want."

"Which implies that what you want is not me." He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Stop." He pulled the arm she was balancing on out from under her, causing her to fall back onto the bed, and then he rolled on top of her. "You have to stop. You can't doubt me, you can't doubt us. I'm in this." He kissed her bottom lip hard. "Now tell me what you want."

Was it the tone of his voice, the words he'd said, the weight of him comfortably above her, or the intense clarity of his blue eyes? She couldn't be sure, but something about him convinced her that he was in this instance unyielding and she couldn't be happier. "I want _you_, but you already know that."

"It's good to hear you say it anyway. What else do you want?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Does there always have to be a reason for what I do? I just want to know you. I want to know everything about you."

"Well, that's it."

"What's it?"

"That's all I want."

"Really?" He sounded appalled.

"What's wrong with that? Would you rather I tell you I want a mansion in Beverly Hills or a closet full of designer shoes?" He rolled off of her and stared glassy-eyed at the ceiling.

"You deserve better than me." This time it was Izzie who clamored on top of him.

"Don't say that. Don't ever tell me what I want. I get to decide that. You asked what I want and I told you. Don't ask questions if you can't handle the answers," she huffed.

His eyebrows shot up. "See, you're proving my point. That's a lot of 'don'ts'. I'm sure there are guys who don't need to be told 'don't.'"

"Shut-up. Seriously, where is the egotistical, self-assured plastic surgeon that kept me up all night?"

"I just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into with me."

"I'm in way too far to get out now. And I have absolutely no desire to try. Besides if you were really interested in protecting me from yourself, than you would have warned me _before_ you made me fall in love with you," she offered as her lips began to caress his neck.

"Again, something another, better man might have done."

"This self-doubt just isn't you and I want _you_."

"What if it _is_ me, just a side you've never seen?"

"Is it?" She stopped her ministrations and met his eyes.

He evaded her question and asked one of his own. "Do you want kids?"

"Is that what this is about? Children?" He didn't say anything. "Okay, it's a little early for this talk." She had every intention of ending the discussion at that, but his despondency made her believe that the conversation had to happen now. Crossing her arms atop his chest and resting her chin upon them, she asked, "What are you thinking?"

"I would make a terrible father."

She thought about what he said and then sighed, "I disagree."

Her sincerity combined with the fact that her opinion was precisely what he wished his own were and what he so desperately wanted to hear, caught his attention. "Why?"

"Do you want kids?" She repeated his question.

"Yes."

"Then you'll make a good father."

"I'm not sure it's that simple…"

"It is," she cut him off. "Love is enough. What makes you think otherwise? Why don't you think you'll be a good father?"

"Addison might have said something once. And I don't remember birthdays. Noisy kids annoy me," he shrugged.

Izzie chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to control the anger boiling inside of her. "She shouldn't have said that to you. She had no right."

"She did actually. I… We… She was pregnant with my child. She didn't even tell me. I didn't find out until after…"

"Abortion?" He nodded.

"She didn't want to have a kid with me. She wanted one with Derek. You know, he'll make a good father."

"So will you, when you're ready." After pausing, she poked him in the chest good naturedly and added, "You better remember my birthday."

"What if I don't?"

"Let's not go there."

"No, I think we should be realistic. If past performances are the determining factor, I will forget some important date sooner or later."

"Okay, if we have to do this… Just for argument's sake, let's pretend we're married."

"What?"

"We've been married five years." Despite the severity of the situation, the thought of the bridal role made Izzie giddy. "I think that is a long enough, so you've gotten over the initial shook." He glared and she laughed. "And you forget our anniversary."

"It could happen," he said gravely.

"How would you feel?"

He gave her question a few seconds of serious consideration and declared, "Awful."

"Try not to be too descriptive, Mark," she said sarcastically.

"I'd feel like I'd let you down, like I'd let myself down, like I'd failed us. You gave me the most precious thing – you – and then I dropped it and broke it."

"Good."

"Good?"

"I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't hurt my feelings if you forgot, but it's not really the remembering that's important. Besides I'm not so easily broken."

"Huh?"

"What I'm trying to say is I'd forgive you. You didn't forget because you didn't care enough about me, you just forgot. I'd rather have a husband who truly loved me and didn't need a special occasion to show it, than one who didn't give a shit but remembered to buy me a gift for every significant date."

"Wouldn't you rather have a husband that could do both?"

"Can you?"

"I don't know. Probably not."

"I want love. And if love comes bearing gifts, who am I to turn it away? But if love comes by itself, that's fine too because that's all I really want." After a moment's pause, she added, "And you have to work on your attitude. 'Probably not.' _Seriously_?"

"I'm being realistic."

"No, you're being pessimistic and self-deprecating, which doesn't suit you. In fact it's a little creepy. With a scalpel in your hand you're all ego, but with me in your arms you seem to have lost that. I don't want to change you."

A smile of satisfaction graced his features. "Don't worry," he soothed smugly. "You couldn't change me if you tried." He placed his hands behind her head and gently brought her face down to his, tenderly kissing her.

"I'm glad. And just so you know, you'll like kids when they're your own, noisy or not."

He shot her a dubious look. "I don't think you understand. I really don't like loud children. They don't even have to be loud. They can just be talking normal volume and I feel like a gnat is circling my head."

"It's different when the noisy kid is yours. Trust me. Instead of hearing noise, you'll hear them."

"How do you know?"

She let out a sigh at his incessant questioning. "There are some things a mother just knows."

"You're not a mother yet."

Lying by omission or allowing someone to assume an untruth is still a lie, only slightly less despicable and even more cowardly than lying to purposefully mislead. Izzie knew she didn't have to do this now. But it was right there and if she didn't say it, she feared she never would. "I was." He slowly sat up causing her to slide down his chest. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you. I was going to wait until… I don't know… there really would never be a 'right' time. But I thought this discussion was quite a ways off."

"What are you talking about?"

"I have a little girl." Clinging to his arm for balance, she leaned over to her nightstand, opened the drawer and pulled out a small picture.

"Have?"

"I can't say 'had.' Even after eleven years, she's still mine." She held out the picture to him, "Her name's Hannah."

"Do you talk to her?" This wasn't the first question she expected him to ask, but she wasn't disappointed.

"No, it's… complicated. But I saw her the other day. She was sick and needed a bone marrow transplant. I…"

"You were the donor?" She nodded, tears brimming in her eyes.

"She didn't want to see me, so I just watched her through the glass." Drops began to stream silently down her cheek.

He stared down at the photograph. "She looks like you. Does she still look like you?" He looked up at her only to find she was crying harder now.

"Yes," she choked out.

Letting the picture fall onto the pillow beside them, he lifted his hands to her face, and brushed away her tears with his thumbs.

"I would like to have a little Izzie." At that she completely lost it.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, gathering her in his arms and rocking her back and forth.

* * *

Meredith was perched on the hospital counter reviewing a chart positioned precariously on one knee, while balancing a textbook upright on the other. "I don't think you're supposed to do that," Derek whispered behind her.

"Jesus, Derek, you scared me." She clutched her chest, causing her to drop the book.

"What's this?" Derek asked as he bent down to pick it up. "Leukemia? Mere, what are you doing?"

"Research," she answered vaguely.

"I can see that. What is this about?"

"A patient."

"Is this patient under the protection of the CIA?"

"What? No!"

"Then why are you being so secretive?"

She glared at him for a second, before relenting. "Bailey."

"Bailey?"

"Yeah. This case is particularly aggressive. I have been assigned to do nothing but search these files for clues."

"Clues for what?" He snatched the chart from her lap and quickly skimmed the information. "Transplant?"

"And she needs another. Or she may need another. That's what we're trying to figure out."

"Want any help?"

"Want and need! But Bailey gave me strict instructions to keep this quiet. So don't go blabbing."

"Between you and me, it's not my mouth you have to worry about."

"Not true."

"I haven't told anyone but you've already told me." Meredith stopped to consider this.

"I was thinking of a completely different reason for why I have to worry about your mouth. But whatever. I can't be having this," she pointed from Derek to herself, "right now."

"This?" He smiled.

The McDreamy face was starting to confuse her.

"Grey!" Bailey shouted. Derek jumped a few inches backward, guiltily distancing himself from Meredith. "Get off the counter!"

"I was just…"

"I don't want to hear it. What have you found?"

"Found?"

"About the leukemia patient?

"Oh… nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Not, nothing nothing, but nothing as in there is nothing in her history to explain this. That's not what you wanted to hear, is it?"

"No. But that's only conjecture. I need something solid."

"It's a start," she defended. Bailey eyed her.

"What's going on?" Derek asked innocently.

Bailey shifted her penetrating gaze to him, "What do you know?"

"Nothing, which is why I'm asking."

"Uh-huh. Well, it's a leukemia case."

"What is so special about this case?"

"Who said there was anything special?" Derek's jaw opened, but he was unable to form any words. "Less talking is definitely better." Bailey nodded in approval. "And just so you know there is nothing special about this case."

* * *

"You look like you didn't sleep at all."

"Thanks for that, Cristina." Izzie tried to stare her down, but her drooping eyelids hindered her effort.

"Was he not good or something?" Alex asked.

"I think her lack of sleep attests to the contrary," Cristina said.

"That good, huh?" Alex teased.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes." Izzie grinned despite herself.

Bailed appeared in the doorway, "It's time for rounds, people!"

Izzie stood, but immediately started to fall backwards. Alex discretely stretched out his arm and steadied her. Izzie shot him a grateful look.

"You better not be hung over, Stevens."

"I'm not."

"Alright. Stevens you're on SCUT today. Karev you're…"

"What?! I'm not drunk!" Izzie yelled a little louder than she meant to, earning her more than a few accusatory stares from the hospital staff.

"I didn't say you were. SCUT, Stevens!"

"But…"

"Go now." She was too tired to protest again.

"No matter what her assignment that girl always complains." Bailey shook her head.

"I do not."

"I heard that, Stevens!"

"I'm going."

"Hey." Mark appeared beside her.

"Hey," She replied wearily.

"You okay?"

"I'm better than okay. Just a little tired. Aren't you?" She looked up at him.

"Not at all."

"Seriously?" Her eyes widened in astonishment.

"Seriously," he mocked. "You want to know why?"

"Even If I didn't, I have a feeling you'd tell me anyway." The moment they were around the corner and out of Bailey's sight, his arms were around her waist and his lips were on hers. The kiss was short, but she felt it right to her core. She let out a gasp, suddenly, not so sleepy. "Mark…"

"I'm sorry, I just cannot have a tryst with you in the on-call room."

She rolled her eyes. "I was going to say…"

"Begging won't work. I'm decided." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Mark!" She slapped him playfully.

"Well, if you're going to be violent, I guess I really have no choice but to comply. Lead the way…" But he had grabbed hold of her hand and was already leading her to the nearest on-call room.

"Mark, I'm serious." She stopped walking.

"So am I," he insisted as he continued to drag her forward.

"I can't do this now."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "People have sex in this hospital all the time."

She could see she would have to be creative in her tactic. "And we will eventually," she whispered seductively in his ear, leaning against him just enough so he could feel her breasts pressed against him as she ran a hand down his chest to rest lightly on the crotch of his pants. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she turned on her heel, leaving him to fall back against the wall.

"That's just cruel," he said, but a smile lit his face. Once she had disappeared from his view, he shook his head laughingly as he headed in the opposite direction.

* * *

The sight of Meredith through a window stopped Mark on his way to find Izzie in an effort to resume what he'd tried to start earlier.

"So I hear you thought I was doing a very bad thing with your friend."

Meredith looked slightly guilty. "I was just worried. No offense, but you know how you operate and I…"

He smiled. "I'm glad you're so protective. It's comforting to know she has people looking out for her." He let his eyes wander around the room. "What are you doing in here?" He asked at the sight of piles of books and notes scribbled on post-its.

She took a deep breath. "Research."

"Oh, really? Never would have guessed. Research for what?"

"It's freakish how similar you and Derek are."

He gave her a confused, but pleased look as he grabbed the chart that was resting on the table before her.

"Leukemia?" He read over the patient's history. "Meredith, this doesn't look good. Everything has been done to help this girl. There are treatments listed here that I know for a fact are still experimental. She has maybe a month left."

"It's my job to find a way to give her a lot longer than a month."

He gave her a pitying look. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Oh, I just assumed you knew her." He gestured to the state of the room, "This isn't normal for one random patient," he stated matter-of-factly. "They have researchers whose job it is to do this."

"Well, I'm sorry too. But she's no relation."

"Then why all this?" Mark looked back down at the chart and for the first time read the patient's name.

"Bailey's orders…" Meredith's voice trailed off as she watched in bewilderment as Mark drifted out of the room. "That was… weird."

"What was?"

"Nothing, just your boyfriend," Meredith smiled suggestively. Izzie couldn't fight the smile that also appeared on her face. "What are you doing here?"

"Hiding."

"Hiding? From what?"

"SCUT." Meredith laughed as Izzie collapsed into a chair. "I can't do it. It's been like an hour and I can't do it anymore." Meredith laughed harder. "Shut-up." This only caused Meredith's laughter to grow. "What are you doing?" Izzie's question, one Meredith had entertained by her count too often already, effectively silenced her laughter, turning it into a groan.

Meanwhile, Mark was striding determinedly towards the short form of Miranda. "Dr. Bailey!" A look of annoyance crossed her features at the sight of Dr. Sloan.

"I swear, I am not playing musical interns anymore. Stevens is on SCUT, end of discussion."

"No, no, I don't care about that. The case you have Grey working on…"

"Yes?"

"You know, don't you?" Bailey's eyebrows rose in question. "That little girl. Hannah. She's…"

"She's none of your business."

"She's Iz…"

"Shhh!" Miranda admonished looking quickly around them to make sure no one was listening. "Be discrete. I know it's not your strong suit, but try." Normally, Mark would have been quick to remind Bailey that he was her boss, but he couldn't think about anything but Izzie.

"So you do know."

"Of course I know. The question here is how do you know?"

Mark puffed out his chest in what Bailey thought was a ridiculous gesture of masculine pride, "She's my girlfriend."

"Stevens, too!" Bailey growled. "If I didn't think she'd need you to get through this I would take you down. I told you to leave my intern alone!"

"Does she know?"

Miranda shook her head, "I haven't told her yet."

"Why not?"

"You know damn well why not. She's just got over Denny. You didn't see her when she lost him. That kind of devastation does something irreversible to a person. I don't want to be the one to bring it on her all over again."

"I'll tell her."

"You don't have to do that. I was going to tell her this afternoon. I just wanted to give Meredith a little more time to…"

"She's not going to find anything. There's nothing to find. It's over. You know that."

"Izzie is going to need sensitivity."

"I can do that. But I can't give her false hope."

"Mark…" Bailey tried to reason with him, but he was resolute.

"It's worse. Believing the best and getting the worst, it's worse than knowing from the start there's no chance. It's better to have no expectations."

"Mark…" The sound of Izzie's soft voice calling from behind him broke his heart.

* * *

**A/N**: So begins the drama… A little contrived, I'll admit, but I really like the idea of exploring Izzie's relationship with Hannah – that was one thing the writer's got right this season. Sorry for the delay, I've had this written (not edited) since Thursday, but I've been insanely busy this weekend (and it's still not over). In addition to not having time to post, I obviously didn't have to time to write either so that means the next chapter will also be a little delayed. Thanks for all the reviews!!!


	10. The Silencing Kind Of Moments

**Chapter 10: The Silencing Kind of Moments**

"You know," Mark stated.

"I know," she confirmed.

"When?"

"Just… Meredith had her file… She's not…"

"Stevens, you are officially off duty," Bailey said.

"No, I need to…"

Bailey's tone softened. "Izzie, go home, get some rest. There's nothing you can do."

"I can't leave her."

Mark tried to reason with her. "Izzie, it's probably best…"

"No, I can't go home and do nothing!"

Mark looked helplessly to Bailey. His voice came out pleading but at the same time firm. "Miranda, let her stay."

Bailey's jaw twitched. "Fine," she relented. Addressing Izzie, Bailey informed her, "You can stay here at the hospital, but only in the capacity of a visitor. You will not be entering any OR, is that understood?"

Izzie nodded. "Okay." She turned to Mark, her expression softening, "Thank you."

Bailey's eyes flashed warningly to Mark as she mouthed, "She is your responsibility." Mark nodded in recognition.

"I have to see her," Izzie stated.

"Then let's go." Mark started walking in the direction of the cancer ward only to stop when he noticed she wasn't beside him. "Izzie…"

"I can't."

"I don't understand."

"She doesn't… or at least she didn't…" Izzie took a shaky breath. "She doesn't want to see me."

"Circumstances have changed. She may feel differently."

"Why? Because she's dying?"

Mark couldn't control himself. Despite the fact that he truly believed what he'd told Bailey, he couldn't not lie. Even knowing it would hurt her more in the end, he couldn't watch her in pain and not try to alleviate it. "She's not going to die."

"You read her chart! Do you need to see it again?"

"Izzie…"

"No, Mark. Don't. Don't coddle me. She's dying."

"That doesn't mean it's the end. She's not dead yet."

"She might as well be!" Izzie's hand shot up to cover her mouth. "I can't believe I… I didn't mean…" Tears clouded her vision and she started to shake her head back and forth.

After a quick survey of their surroundings, Mark took her hand in his and gently tugged her in the direction of the nearest on-call room, but she refused to move. Before she could pull her hand out of his grasp, he grabbed her a little more roughly than he meant to and forced her into the room.

"What the hell was that?!" She screamed, wrenching her arm from his strong grip the moment the door closed behind them.

"Sorry about your arm," he said as she rubbed it. She just glared at him, awaiting an answer. "You were making a scene."

"So what? She is my daughter. My daughter with cancer who is dying. I can make a fucking scene!"

"I know, I know. If anyone were ever entitled to make a scene it's you right now. But do you really want to deal with all the attention that would bring to you? The questions, the pitying stares, the whispers… Do you want to face all…" His rationale was interrupted by her hand against cheek.

The moment her swing connected with his face, his expression became unreadable. By the time her second punch was thrown to his chest, his blue eyes seemed to have become another color entirely. As she continued to beat upon him, he allowed his eyes to fall shut. Finally, he whispered, "Izzie," as he caught her fists and held them up against his chest. "I know it's not fair."

She slumped against him, exhausted. They just stood there like that for several moments, the sound of her labored breathing filling the room.

"I was happy," she finally said

"What?"

"I was perfectly content. Here, with you. Even having not met her, I was happy. And then now, out there, just for a second, I resented her - for coming back, even though all these years it's what I've quietly longed for. I was happy and now I'm not and I was mad at her for it. How wrong is that?"

"Izzie, it's not wrong to be happy or to want to be happy." She fought the tears she'd thought she'd run out of as they begin to pool in her eyes. "And your confusion, it's understandable. She's back in your life and you asked for it, but you didn't ask for it to be like this. She's your daughter but you're not her mom, so who she is to you and who you are to her, it's all confused. She and you are treading through murky water here. So how do you respond? Where do you go from here? I don't know what to tell you. We'll have to figure out as we go. Can you do that?"

Between sobs, she managed, "What choice do I have?"

"It's a mistake to think you don't have a choice in this. You can walk away right now. But I don't see you doing that. The choice _is_ there though. Or you can walk into her life knowing that when this is all over you'll have to say good-bye to her again no matter whether she lives or dies. There's no good choice here, but there is a choice."

"Tell me what to do."

"I have a feeling that this wouldn't be so damn hard if you hadn't already decided."

"I'm not sure I'll make it to the end."

"I promise that I will be here to make sure you make it to the end. I can't say it won't be hard. It will. It will probably be harder than anything you've ever had to do. But pretend that you didn't. Could you really live knowing you'd had a chance to know her and had chosen not to take it?"

She didn't answer, but he knew her answer before he'd asked. The question was for her benefit not his.

"Let's go home."

"What?"

"There's nothing else you can do here. Let's go home, come back tomorrow and we'll do this then, okay?"

"I don't think I can leave."

"You can." He placed a hand above her hip and steered her out of the room. "We're leaving right now."

* * *

"Mark?" Her question was met with silence. She scooted to his side of the bed, but found it empty and cold. Reluctantly, she got up and made her way downstairs to the kitchen, only to find it empty as well.

"There you are!"

"Meredith?" Izzie turned around as Meredith entered.

She smiled softly, "Mark had to go into the hospital early. He'll be relieved to know you slept in this late."

"What are _you_ doing here so late?"

Meredith looked at her awkwardly.

"You're babysitting me," Izzie concluded. "I'm fine, Mere. I don't need a babysitter."

"He's just worried about you. He didn't want you to have to be alone. You know, you don't always have to be the strong one. It can be nice, letting someone else take care of you."

Izzie regarded Meredith indecisively and then looked away. "I have to go to the hospital. Are you driving?"

Meredith smiled at her friend. "The car's out front."

The drive started off in relative silence until Meredith couldn't stop herself.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Hmmm? You mean about Hannah?"

"You could have told me."

"She wasn't… This is just different."

"Different from what?"

"The modeling thing. I could handle that, but this is so much bigger than that. I couldn't… if she was the topic of the hospital gossip, if I had to hear her name whispered everyday, I just couldn't do it."

"But I wouldn't have spread this. I can relate to wanting to keep a family member's sickness quiet."

"I know you wouldn't have meant to. But you would've told Derek and… and it just would have gotten around eventually. Besides it wasn't her disease I was trying to hide, it was her existence. God, that makes me feel sick."

"Izzie…"

"No, don't worry about it."

"In the future, though…"

"Meredith, it's okay. You don't need to do this."

"I know you have Mark, but I'm here too."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Can I go now?" Meredith jumped a little at the realization that she'd already parked in front of the hospital.

"Yeah, sure," she said as she unlocked the doors. They entered the hospital at a fast walk, which Izzie didn't allow to slow until they reached the nurse's station.

"Where's Dr. Sloan?"

The nurse shot Izzie an irritated look. "I don't know. Check the board."

"That's the problem with keeping secrets," Meredith whispered as they headed to the board. "No one knows."

"Isn't that the point?"

"But no one knows to tread carefully, to be sympathetic, to avoid making things worse than they already are for you."

She scanned the board, "He's not scheduled for any surgery and hasn't been. What the hell did he have to come in early for?!"

"He didn't say why he had to leave this morning, he just said he had to leave." Meredith's pager went off as Izzie entered interrogation mode. "It's Bailey, I gotta go!

"Wait! Mere!" Izzie sighed as she watched Meredith jog away. "Fine. Whatever. I'll just page him." However, as she was about to do just that, her own pager went off. "What the hell? I'm not even supposed to be here." Tilting the screen to read the message, she was surprised to see it was Mark.

She found him back at the nurse's station, concentrating hard on the piece of paper in front of him. "I must have just missed you," she said joining him by the counter.

"You're here."

"You paged." She gave him a quick kiss.

His smile was tight as he said, "There's been a development in Hannah's case that I thought you'd want to know about." He watched as her face fell. "They want to try another transplant."

"And they want me to be the donor again."

"Yes."

"Of course I'll do it."

"But?"

"But that's not going to be enough, is it? We've done this already and here we are again. Is this really the best they could come up with?"

"There aren't a lot of options right now."

"I know. But isn't there something, anything better? What if this doesn't work?"

"Izzie, breathe." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Better?"

"Surprisingly, but not much. When do we start?"

"Right now, if you're ready. Are you ready?" A laugh escaped her throat at the absurdity of the question, but she nodded.

He intertwined his fingers with hers as they made their way to the cancer ward, softly adding, "She wants to see you."

"Wants to or agreed to?" Izzie asked slowly.

"Izzie…"

"Right, agreed to. It's fine. I just wanted to know is all."

"All her life she's known this one woman to be her mother, but now her biological mother is suddenly in her life. Give her time to get to know you."

"There isn't time. Besides, it's fine. Don't you think I know that this is hard for her too?"

"I'm just saying…"

"Well, don't just say."

"Alright." She felt her stomach churn nauseatingly when he didn't argue back. She knew she was picking a fight where there wasn't one, that she was taking her anger out on the wrong person, but she couldn't stop herself and she couldn't bring herself to apologize for it either.

Mark stayed with her while, for the second time in her life, she had bone marrow drawn from her hip. He didn't speak a word the entire time, but neither did she. The silence hanging between them wasn't full of anger, it wasn't full of anything but emptiness. She didn't have the energy to speak and he didn't have the words to say.

When the procedure was finally over, he softly kissed her forehead and helped her into the wheelchair. Too weak to protest, she collapsed into it and he wheeled her to the recovery room.

Despite the pain surging through every nerve in her body, she found herself drifting away. "It's okay," he whispered as he lifted her onto the bed. "Go to sleep." With the warmth of his arms wrapped around her, she did. Mark remained there for a time, holding her exhausted form to him, wondering how quickly life got so complicated.

Upon seeing Cristina's face in the window, he disentangled himself from Izzie and opened the door.

"Yang?"

"Meredith sent me."

"And?"

"And she said you'd know what this is about. Is that Izzie in there?"

"Yes it is. You can tell Meredith that Izzie is fine and that's all we know so far."

"Dr. Sloan?" Cristina asked, looking for some sort of explanation.

"What else did Grey say?"

Cristina frowned before responding. "Something about an example and secrets. What is going on? And how did you know that she said anything else?"

"Good guess. Go deliver the news to Meredith."

She hesitated but turned to walk away, he was her attending after all. After taking a few steps, she stopped and asked "Will she be okay?"

"She will be," Mark smiled sadly. He looked through the doorway to where Izzie lay sleeping, but he didn't go back in. _I need a drink_.

* * *

"What do you want?"

"Whatever you've got that is strongest." Joe complied, sliding a nasty looking glass across the counter into Mark's open hand.

"I don't know how to do this," Mark admitted, making a face as he tasted the concoction.

"You're thinking too hard," Derek concluded, sipping his own drink.

"That's not the problem."

"She doesn't need a life-long commitment from you, she just needs you to be there with her today."

"It's not the future with her that scares me, it's the now."

"Funny."

"It's not."

"No, it's not. Does she know where you are?"

Mark looked at the swirling contents of his glass. "I told her I'd be there with her."

"Were you lying?"

"No. It just… It seemed like the right thing to say." Derek gave him a half-pitying, half-disgusted look. "I didn't think it would be hard to 'be there.'" But the more I'm 'there' the more I realize how much everything I do effects her. One wrong move and I could make this so much worse for her."

"You're already making the biggest mistake of all."

"Huh?"

"You're telling me not her."

"Derek…"

"No. You're being a dumb-ass. You're afraid you're going to hurt her, but you're hurting her right now. Don't you see?"

"I hesitated."

"You can hesitate. She won't fault you for it."

"She's not in the most rational frame of mind right now. This has to be about her, not me, and I'm more than okay with that. The last thing she needs is to worry about what this is doing to me."

"Again, tell _her_." Mark, looking lost and intimidated, showed no signs of response. "Try."

Finally, he rose from his seat, threw down a few dollars and headed out the door. Derek watched his friend's forlorn retreat, hoping he would be okay.

"Sometimes that's all they need," Joe said as he wiped the counter.

"Yeah."

"Do you think he's going back to the hospital?"

"I don't know. It's a lot for him. He loves her, but it's a lot. I just hope he'll be sober by the time he has to explain."

"He's sober now."

"What?"

"There was no alcohol in his drink."

"But I thought…"

"She's like a daughter to me," Joe shrugged.

"Izzie's a good girl," Derek smiled.

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, again sorry for the delay, life kinda got in the way of writing, and a really bad case of plot-block (seriously, I am the most indecisive person ever when it comes to anything, so in a case like this when my choice really effects what I do next, it takes me forever to finally make a decision) limited the progress I made with the little time I had. The next chapter should come more quickly as I know exactly where it's going, but you never know with me. As always, thank you so so much for all the reviews!


	11. The Kind Of Enough That Isn't Enough

**Chapter 11: The Kind Of Enough That Isn't Enough**

"You were gone a long time. Rounds?

"How long have you been awake?"

Izzie regarded him suspiciously, but drawled, "A while."

Mark sat down on her bed and she scooted over to give him room. He draped an arm over her shoulder and sighed, "I was at Joe's."

Izzie let her head fall onto his shoulder. "Why?"

"I needed a drink."

"Did it help?"

"No, but I'm okay now."

"And you weren't before."

"No."

"What's the matter?"

"Izzie, you don't need to take care of me, just focus on taking care of you."

"But now I'm worried!"

He pressed a kiss to her temple, "You don't have to worry."

"I'll worry anyway."

"I promise there's nothing to worry about. I'm here."

"But you weren't." Mark ran a hand down over his face. "Just talk to me. _Please_."

"I don't know what to say."

"Say anything."

"I don't know how to do this," he confessed.

"Well, that's something."

"No, not this," he said as he pointed between himself and her. "_This_." He stood up, making big flapping gestures with his arms. "I don't know what to do to make this better for you. I don't know what to do to make this easier. I just don't know what to do!" By his last exclamation he had begun rapidly pacing the length of her bed.

"Mark," Izzie grunted, struggling to sit up and reach him. He was by her side immediately, his hands on her back supporting her weight.

"Iz, just lay back." Her aching body left her with no other choice except to acquiesce. "There."

She inhaled sharply, "You don't have to do anything."

"Nothing?" He looked at her skeptically.

She shook her head, "Just don't leave me."

He climbed back into bed with her. "Is that all?"

"_All?_ I'm asking a lot." She tried in vain to stifle a yawn.

"No, you're asking for the one thing I know I can give you, me."

"Mark, I…" Her thought was interrupted as she yawned again.

"Shhh… it's okay, just go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." And he was.

It was late afternoon when she finally had the energy to stay awake for any length of time. The moment she sat up, before the grogginess had faded from her voice, Izzie declared, "I want to see her now."

Mark chuckled at her enthusiasm. "First, let's get you ready," he said as he pulled her to the edge of the bed.

He slid her scrubs up over her hips, tying the drawstrings loosely about her waist.

"Seems like this is backwards," she tried to laugh through the pain. He slipped her shoes over her socks and laced them. "I like it better the other way."

"I offered yesterday," he reminded her.

"Yeah, I was busy and… stupid."

"For the record, it's always a bad idea to turn me down," he teased as he helped her stand.

"Oh, really? Why is that?" She asked, leaning into him for balance.

"I know you, every inch of you." He let his fingers run lightly down her arms, smiling in satisfaction when her hair stood on end. "I know what you like. I know what to do. And, _seriously_, is there any better feeling in the world than my lips on yours?" She shivered at his words.

"We should go."

"As soon as you sit down, we will."

"What?" A look of disgust crossed her features as he pulled the wheelchair closer to the bed. "I can't see her in that."

"Why not?"

"I'll look…"

"Sick? Do you think that will bother her? She might find it comforting that you can relate a little better to how she feels."

She collapsed into the wheelchair. "But I feel weak. And I can't go into this feeling weak. I need all the strength I have just to face her after all these years."

"Think of her as a bug," Mark suggested as he began wheeling her out of the room.

"See Mark, this is why you just _being _here helps. You really don't need to _say_ anything. In fact, it might be best if you just don't say anything at all," she teased.

"You're mean." She twisted around to look at him and laughed at the pout that had formed on his face. "But really, I'll bet she's more scared of you than you are of her."

She turned back around and just stared ahead. They went the rest of the way in relative silence. As they arrived at Hannah's room, Izzie said quietly. "I'm scared."

"I know. Remember that she is too. She won't attack you, but she can't run away either. Neither of you can. So go be you. Let her get to know you." As he opened the door and pushed her into the room, he bent down and whispered, "Izzie, just breathe." With that, he excused himself, leaving the two girls staring face to face with one another.

* * *

"This is bad. So bad. And big. It's just a lot of big badness."

"Grey, why are you talking to me?"

"Who would you have me talk to? Besides Mark and Izzie herself, you're the only other person who knows!"

"What about O'Malley?"

"George knows?!"

Bailey's forehead creased at the memory. "He just walked right in." She turned to Meredith accusingly, "Thanks to your big mouth."

"I already told Cristina that I couldn't tell her."

"What?"

"I'm reformed," Meredith declared, causing Bailey to roll her eyes in disbelief. "I'm proving to Izzie I can be a good friend."

"By not telling Cristina."

"That's right!"

Bailey stared at her blankly. "Well, you're not talking to me."

"I need to talk to _someone_."

"Not me."

"What can we do?"

"Grey, you're really trying my patience here."

"Everything's been done. What else is left after everything? Is there more than that?"

"No. There's only so much that we can do. At this point we just have to remember to do no harm."

"So, what?"

"We wait."

"Wait?"

"Grey, this is out of our hands. Her body with either respond or it won't."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Stop asking questions that you know damn well don't have definitive answers. She's been sick for some time. Her organs have taken a beating; they're already starting to shut down."

"So you're saying…"

"Grey, that little girl is dying. Right now there's still a chance she'll win, she's still fighting. What I'm saying is there isn't much fight left."

* * *

"So… do you like pink?"

"Seriously? You haven't seen me in eleven years and that's the first thing out of your mouth? Tell me this isn't the reunion you had in mind."

Izzie was taken aback. She certainly _did _have her mother's mouth. "Okay, well, how do you recommend we begin?"

"An introduction would be nice."

"I'm Isobel… but everyone calls me Izzie. You can call me whatever you want."

Hannah nodded in consideration. "I'm Hannah." Izzie scooted her wheelchair closer to shake her hand, but when she saw Hannah sink more deeply into her pillow, she stopped.

"Sorry, I just…"

"No, it's okay," Hannah thrust out her hand. "I've known about you my entire life, but I don't know _you_."

The feel of her daughter's hand in her own was something for which Izzie wasn't prepared. The sensation sent her mind rushing back to Hannah's birth, when she had held her arms for the first and last time. There was no comparable feeling and she'd forgotten what it was like, become numb to its absence. It wasn't until she now, experiencing it again, that she realized how much she missed it.

But something was different this time around. Hannah had been so alive when Izzie had cradled her in that first day of life. That warmth was gone now. She was cold, almost clammy, her skin pale and dry, covering only bone. Izzie saw her then and she knew.

Hannah's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Is that man who brought you in here your husband?"

"What? No! Why would you think that?"

"He has peaked in the window like eight hundred times already. So I figured you're either a murderer and he's checking to make sure you haven't killed me yet or you're his wife and he's checking to make sure I haven't killed you yet. Being an optimist, I assumed the latter."

"I'm glad your parents raised you to be so grounded in reality," Izzie teased.

"My parents raised me the best way they knew how," she bit back in defense.

"Now hold on, it wasn't my intent to insult them or you."

"I guess we just see the world from two very different pairs of eyes." The comment was meant to hurt Izzie and it succeeded. She couldn't look into Hannah's eyes and not see her own. To be denied so blatantly any connection to her daughter, worst of all _by_ her daughter, was heart-breaking. She looked, in what she hoped was a discrete motion, over her shoulder through the window, hoping Mark was there. "You just missed him," Hannah said, her voice softer and without the vehemence of before. "Who is he anyway?"

"Mark, his name is Mark. He's the best plastic surgeon in the country. And he's my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Hannah scrunched up her face. "Aren't you a little old to have a boyfriend?"

"Hey! I'm not that old. What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Really?" Izzie asked surprised.

"I'm a little young."

"Jeez, you're too young, I'm too old. What is an okay age to date? I had my first kiss when I was only a year or two older than you."

"And that ended well, did it?" Hannah asked sarcastically.

"I think so," Izzie answered honestly. "You're here, aren't you?"

"You don't wish you could go back in time to avoid all this?"

"Never."

"You don't regret giving me up for adoption?"

"You aren't making this easy."

"It isn't supposed to be easy."

Izzie sighed. "Not once have I felt that I made the wrong choice. Even now, with you sitting right here in front of me, I'm just more convinced that I did the right thing."

"So you don't regret it then?"

"I can't answer that question. 'Regret' is a complicated word. I did what was best for you and what was best for me. But that hasn't stopped me from missing you and thinking about you, about everything I'd given up by giving you away. So if you're asking, given the chance to change the past if I'd do something differently, then the answer is no, my choice would be the same. But if you're asking if the decision hurt, then the answer is yes, everyday it hurts."

"You loved me?"

"I still love you."

"You couldn't have loved me very much."

"Why would you say that? I loved you more than anything."

"How do you part with something you love?"

"You don't, at least not really. You've been with me all these years."

"But you haven't been with me."

"No," Izzie swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat.

"How could you give me away? If you really loved me how did you just hand me over to some stranger?"

"It was because I loved you as much as I did that I was able to give you to someone else. Keeping you would have been selfish and I couldn't condemn you to repeat my childhood. I wanted you to have opportunities that when I was your age I didn't even know were possibilities."

"I don't understand."

"It's okay. It's hard. But you will understand eventually, even if you don't ever agree with my decision."

"Okay," Hannah sighed, a hint of doubt evident in her voice.

"So… you've had a good life." Izzie's statement sounded more like a question, but one that Hannah wasn't sure how to answer.

"The best," she answered, a huge grin lighting her face. "I mean, right now it's not so great…" Despite the severity of the situation, both Hannah and Izzie laughed. "But, I'm happy. Is that good?"

"Yes, that's good."

Mark appeared in the doorway, "Iz, it's time… you can come back… or maybe you can…"

Hannah interrupted, "She can come back tomorrow." Her brown eyes challenged him to argue. Mark just stared at her, taken aback by the little girl's audacity.

"I'll come back tomorrow," Izzie said gleefully. Mark slowly nodded as he walked to her wheelchair. Pushing Izzie out of the room, he looked uneasily over his shoulder to find that Hannah was still staring him down.

"Eh… she is…"

Izzie raised her eyebrows as she looked back at him.

"She's freakishly similar… I mean the resemblance is uncanny… but the way she moves and talks…"

"Yes?"

"Were you always as smart-mouthed as you are now?"

"Yes."

Mark sighed. "She's going to break so many hearts."

Izzie laughed, but stopped abruptly. "If she gets the chance."

"If she gets the chance," Mark echoed.

"What am I going to do?"

"We. What are _we_ going to do."

"Well, what are we going to do? I can't lose her again." Mark could hear the tears threatening to fall, so he increased his pace and quickly shut them up in her room.

"Iz, you're not going to want to hear this."

"I need to hear something." Mark scooped her out of her wheelchair and carried her over to the bed.

"You can do this. You have to be able to this. I know you can do this. But right now you need to prepare yourself to lose her. Let her go."

"What?"

"Do this now, before… just before."

"Why?"

"You are going to lose her."

"But you said…"

"I know. I know what I said. But I lied. I just couldn't see you hurting."

"You're hurting me now." Mark winced.

"I'm so sorry. God, I can't tell you how much I hate myself for doing this to you. But you have to make this break."

"I can't. I won't."

"She won't be yours for much longer."

"She'll always be mine."

"Iz, it'll be easier if you make your peace now."

"I don't need easy…"

"You say that now, but…"

"No buts. I don't need easy, Mark. I need love. And I need her. I'm going to see her tomorrow and everyday after that if she lets me."

"You'll have tomorrow, but it's the days after that I'm worried about. And I didn't mean to imply that you should stop visiting her."

"Mark, I refuse to believe that she's come back into my life only to leave it so soon."

It was then Mark realized she knew. The conversation they were having wasn't real. Izzie knew. She just couldn't be the one to pull away. She loved in a way that was undeniable and unending.

He'd thought she'd been living in an alternate reality, where time didn't move. But now he understood too. She had known all along that the time she had with Hannah was soon to be over. The visits were her way of closing a chapter. It was so quiet and unassuming, not even Izzie knew it's what she was doing.

"I love you," he whispered the words like an apology.

"I love you, too," she responded, scrutinizing his face. "I'm not mad."

"I was cruel."

"No, you weren't. I don't like what you said, but you were honest. You have never been cruel," she reassured.

"I don't have the faith that you do. I expect the worst so I'm never disappointed."

"That's the real tragedy."

"What?"

"You can't live like that, afraid of everything," she admonished, burying herself in the sheets of the bed.

"I didn't say afraid…"

"You are…"

"I have a shrink, who I pay very well, so you don't need to psychoanalyze me," he said as he climbed into bed after her.

"You are," she raised her voice over his, "afraid of getting hurt."

"Because it hurts!" He broke out. "I couldn't live through what you lived through."

"The pain is there because we love. I have never wished that I didn't love someone because it hurt to lose them. I only ever wished I had loved them more while they were here."

"She's here now," he said, recalling his earlier realization.

"Yes, she's here now."

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for your patience. 'Drama' (or my version of it) is harder to write for me… I second guess myself way more, which actually might be due, at least in part, to the fact I'm taking this story more seriously too – kinda like the first few chapters were an experiment to see if I could actually do this, and now that I can, I don't want to just do it, but do it right. Anywho, thank you so much for all the reviews, they really make my day – I'm starting to find that many authors reply to their reviews, which I think I'll start doing too, don't know when yet, just wanted to say that so no one felt like I just forgot about them. The next chapter is not written at all, except in my mind, so it'll be a few days before I update again.


	12. The Kind Of Wisdom That Defies Age

**Chapter 12: The Kind Of Wisdom That Defies Age**

Izzie had woken up before Mark, a first in their time together, but she hadn't let him sleep much longer than herself, jumping on top of him, demanding he take her to see her daughter immediately.

Mark humored her by getting out of bed, but delicately reminded her, "Visiting hours haven't started yet."

She couldn't suppress the soft laugh that escaped her mouth. "I don't care about that."

"Bailey will. The chief will," Mark said seriously.

"Neither of them has to know."

"They'll find out."

"Then I'll worry about it when they do." Izzie knew he was right. She had known that such was the case when she'd made her plan to see Hannah in the morning.

"You just got off probation. I'm just trying to look out for you,"

"I know." She leaned in to kiss him, "And I love you for that. But do you seriously think the fact that it's against the 'rules'," she made air quotes, "is going to stop me?"

"Good point," he ceded, but still gave shot her a worried glance.

"It'll be okay. I'm gonna go. Do you want to meet for lunch?"

"Sounds good." She smiled sweetly and turned to walk away. As her hand reached out for the doorknob, he called out, "Iz…" She tilted her head. He took a deep breath and then shook his head, uttering, "Never mind."

Izzie furrowed her brows in confusion, but when she was out the door the incident was quickly forgotten. Hannah was waiting for her expectantly.

"I hoped you'd be up," Izzie said.

"I can't sleep when I'm excited."

"Excited?" Izzie couldn't contain her own excitement at the prospect of her daughter eagerly waiting to see her.

"Or nervous, or stressed… really any strong emotion just throws me."

"Oh," she sighed, a trace of disappointment evident in her voice. Looking around the room anxiously, Izzie noticed its vacancy with surprise. "Where are your parents?"

"I told them I needed some privacy."

"You lied?" Izzie asked incredulously.

"No!" Hannah looked offended at the suggestion. "I _do_ need privacy. I certainly don't want to show you off," she teased.

"Why didn't you just tell them I was going to be here?"

"Who says I didn't?"

"Did you?"

"No."

"Okay…" Izzie was having trouble remembering that her daughter was eleven, not yet an adult but not really a child anymore. "Why?"

"They're protective, and have good reason to be. If I'd told them I'd thought you'd be here at this time, they would have sought you out and told you to wait until later in the morning. But I needed to see you now. This isn't something that should be delayed."

"Hannah…"

"You'd be wasting my precious little time by telling me the inevitable is not, in fact, inevitable."

"Fine. Where do you want to start today?"

"How about with you?"

There was a moment, which each felt was unbearable in length, when neither said a word.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Ask me something easier, more specific."

"What do you like? What do you do? What do you want?"

Izzie's stopped the stream of questions flowing from Hannah's mouth. "Okay, that'll do for now." Izzie tried to think of what to tell her daughter she liked. Somehow alcohol and sex didn't seem an appropriate answer to tell an eleven year old. "Ummm… I like cake."

"Cake?"

"Well, desert in general, but cakes in particular."

"Any kind?"

"Yes, any kind – all kinds." Hannah wrinkled her nose at Izzie.

"Cake isn't really healthy, you know."

"That's why there is carrot cake."

Hannah laughed, "That's no better!"

"No, it's not," Izzie admitted. "But cake is not the only thing I eat, it's just something I have to do on occasion. I bake. I'm a baker."

"Me too!"

"Really?" Izzie was unable to conceal her enthusiasm at having found such a commonality.

"Yeah! I make cookies and not those ones my mom makes that all you have to do is slice and bake." _Mom_. There it was. The one word Izzie couldn't stand to hear when it was not in reference to herself. She'd anticipated it would come up in their conversation, but she hadn't been able to build up any defense against it. Its poison went in her ear, completely bypassed her bloodstream, and went straight to her heart. "I make chocolate chip cookies and sugar cookies," Hannah was counting on her fingers. "And oatmeal raisin cookies and peanut butter cookies and cookies with candy in them. I've even made my own recipe!" Hannah hadn't purposefully used the word to remind Izzie of their relationship, which, Izzie noted, only made its use hurt more. It was the truth; not a fabrication to be used as weaponry, just reality.

Hannah looked at Izzie proudly. "What else do you like?"

"I like surgeries, saving lives, helping people. That's why I wanted to be a doctor. I like people."

"What else?"

"Butterflies. I have a tattoo of one on my hip." Hannah looked horrified.

"Did it hurt? Mom says I'm not allowed to even get my ears pierced until I'm sixteen." There it was again. The sting of the m-word hurt more the second time, but it also faded faster. Instead, Izzie became more preoccupied with the concerning fact that Hannah's parents sounded absurdly conservative and controlling, two things Izzie would learn later that they were most definitely not.

"What if we went and got your ears pierced right now?"

"I'm not allowed to leave the hospital," Hannah offered as an excuse.

"I could take you."

"My parents said 'no.'" Hannah's voice came out a little panicked. At first she'd assumed Izzie was kidding, but now she really wondered if Izzie weren't serious.

"I don't think they'd be mad at you."

Hannah's eyes widened considerably. "Maybe not, but they'd be furious with you. You wouldn't be able to help people if lost your job. I don't want my ears pierced _that_ bad."

Izzie stopped then. She would have done it for her. Knowing that it would have meant giving up her place in the surgical program, she would have done it anyway. It wasn't Hannah's words that stopped her. The fact that Hannah cared about what the consequences would be for her meant more than Izzie could ever put into words, but it had been the same with Denny. It was something in Hannah's face that convinced her that she wouldn't be able to go through with it. Hannah wouldn't let her. Denny had let her, but Hannah wouldn't. For the first and only time, Izzie appreciated that Hannah didn't love her the way a daughter loves a mother. Hannah had given her a gift, a refusal to accept a sacrifice in the name of something that didn't yet exist.

"So what do you do?"

"I already told you, I'm a surgeon."

"No, I know that. But what do you do besides work?" Again Izzie thought of alcohol and sex, though those were not mutually exclusive from work or from each other.

"Nothing," she finally relented. It was somewhat of a depressing realization.

"Nothing?" Hannah was shocked.

"Well, what kinds of things did you think I did? What else should I do? I mean, what do you do?"

"Well, I do nothing, but that's because I'm confined to a hospital bed, which is the only valid excuse for doing nothing. I guess I just expected that you lived a more exciting life."

"My life is exciting," Izzie protested.

"Your job is, but your life… not so much."

"Mark is exciting."

_That's better_, Hannah thought. "So what do you do? Travel? Read? Go to the movies?"

Izzie had to bite her lip at the first question. Turning her attention to the second, "I don't have time to travel," she dismissed casually. "And I haven't been seeing Mark that long. I don't know that we're ready to go on a trip by ourselves."

"So go with other people."

"That might be worse," Izzie said, thinking of enduring a plane ride with Meredith and Derek testing the limits of public decency. _If any couple could have sex fully clothed it would be them_, she thought wryly.

"You don't have any friends?"

"I do."

"Outside the hospital?"

"Okay, no. But what's wrong with that?"

"I didn't say anything was. I just wanted to know," Hannah said honestly.

Returning to Hannah's questions, Izzie said "Also, isn't reading kind of a solo activity?"

"You don't ever read to each other?"

"That's what parents do with their children."

"But it's fun. I don't see why you couldn't do it with your boyfriend. What about going to movies?"

"The last movie I saw was Pirates of the Caribbean."

"The first one? But that was like…"

"A long, long time ago. I don't even want to know how many years."

"That's just sad."

"And yet I'm happy."

"Well, that's what matters." Hannah smiled. "I still think you go out on a date, though." Izzie smiled back at her daughter.

"What about you? What do you like? What do you do?"

"It'd be easier to ask what I don't like, the list is much shorter."

"Okay."

"I hate missing school almost as much as I hate homework. I don't like cars or driving. It's weird that we can't move fast enough for ourselves, you know? Plus I get car sick. I hate people who invite themselves to go out with you and your friends, it's so needy. And people who are fake nice. I mean, what is that? Do they really think people don't know? Winter. Winter is the thing I hate the most. It's cold and everything dies. Where I'm from we don't get much snow, so there isn't even a redeeming quality."

Izzie nodded thoughtfully, absorbing every detail of her daughter's life. "Tell me what you like."

"Books. I love books."

"What's your favorite?"

"_A Separate Peace_."

"What else?"

"I love crickets. The sound of running water. The color pink," she smiled mischievously.

"What else?"

"Clothes right when they come out of the dryer, all toasty. Going barefoot. Singing out of tune. Rolling down hills." Izzie watched as Hannah all but forgot she was talking to anyone. She lost herself, reliving the memories of experiencing all her favorite things in this world. A knock on the door brought her back to the room. "Oh my God, how long have I gone on?" She laughed slightly embarrassed. "That's why it's easier to say what I don't like."

"I'd rather know what you do like."

The knock came a second time, forcing Izzie to get up and answer it. She pried the door open slowly and stopped after it was cracked just enough to see that on the other side were Hannah's parents.

"You're here early," Hannah's mother sounded accusatory.

"Can we come in?" Her father asked.

"Just give me two more minutes and I'll go."

They looked at each other hesitantly, but nodded. When they went to walk into the room, Izzie blocked the entrance. "Alone." After a second, she added "If you don't mind." After another short pause of hesitation, they granted her request.

Izzie returned to her spot beside Hannah's bed. She noticed Hannah looked paler than she had when she'd first arrived, but her eyes were swirling with renewed brilliance.

"Okay, last question," Hannah said as she lifted her head weakly and smiled. "What do you want?"

"I want love."

"Mark?"

Izzie blushed, "Yes, Mark. Also a family. You." Izzie's eyes darted to the ground as she uttered the final word.

"For me… I want to play on my school's soccer team. I want to grow my hair to be as long as yours. I want to go to Disney World. I want to know how magicians make things disappear. I want to see the Mona Lisa. I want all those things and many more. But all I really want is the same thing as you. Love. Eventually a family of my own. And I think I want you too."

Izzie's tears had started somewhere around the mention of hair and by the end it was impossible for her to mask her sorrow.

Hannah reached out her arms shakily and Izzie was in them instantly. She wrapped her own tightly around her daughter's slight frame. "You're sad because you know I won't get all those things. But I'm not sad because I'll get some of them. I have some of them. Isn't that the best? Having the thing you want and still wanting it?" Hannah asked cheerfully. Izzie couldn't answer, but she wasn't expected to.

Hannah's parents entered then, a little startled to see the display before them. Izzie and Hannah slowly released each other. "I'm glad I got to meet you." Hannah said still smiling. "It was good. It was definitely a good thing."

As Izzie pulled back and stood up, thinking of their scheduled visit for that afternoon, she said, "I'll see you later." Hannah didn't nod or say anything, she just smiled a tight-lipped smile as though she wanted to add something, but at the last minute had stopped herself. Before Izzie exited, she looked into her daughter's eyes and found her own chocolate pools looking back at her. Their eyes remained locked like that for several seconds, until one of them blinked.

Izzie headed down to the cafeteria to meet Mark for lunch. He was waiting at a table for her, food already in place.

"You ordered for me?"

"I wasn't sure how much time you'd have, so I figured I'd have it ready for you."

"It's a lot."

"I didn't know what you'd want," he shrugged.

She walked up behind his chair and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. "Thank you." For a while she remained like that, half-bent over, hanging onto the confused, but happily so, plastic surgeon. After curious and caustic glances were being thrown at her with wild abandon by the other diners, she released him. But the space between them didn't last long as she pulled her chair up against his and plopped into it.

"What was that for?"

"For being you."

"That is not usually what I get for being me."

"If a slap would satisfy you, I'd be happy to give you one of those," she joked, letting her shoulder fall against his.

He scooped up her hand from the table and brought her knuckles to his lips. Izzie couldn't fight, not that she wanted to, the smile tugging on the corners of her mouth.

As she picked up a fork and started picking though her food, she continued to smile goofily. Ever now and then between bites, she chuckled. After watching her behavior in interest, he asked "What?"

Surprise registered on her face but was quickly replaced with delight. "I'm just happy," she answered, continuing to chew.

Her answer seemed simplistic to him, yet he didn't doubt she was being completely honest, and thus he didn't press her farther.

"You read, right?"

"Have you already forgotten the discoveries you found while snooping around my room?"

"I wasn't snooping…" She did, in fact, remember the large stack of books piled in his room.

"Recall throwing a book at my head?" Izzie blushed at the memory.

"Yeah, well, you deserved it."

"I'm not denying anything," he laughed. "But to answer your question, yes I read quite a lot."

"Ever read aloud?"

"Like to a class?"

"Or to someone."

"You mean just one other person? Does myself count?"

"I was thinking maybe we could read something together."

Mark scowled somewhat. "Izzie…"

Before he could start, she interrupted. "You know what, never mind. Forget I asked. It was stupid."

"Iz…" But Izzie was already beginning another conversation.

"I know we're dating, except we haven't really been on any dates. I thought it'd be nice… or I'd like it… I think maybe you would too… at least I hope so… we don't have to or anything…"

"Izzie." When she opened her mouth to interrupt him again, he raised his hand and covered her mouth. "Would you like to go out with me tonight?" He could see the smile form in her eyes and he felt her mouth change underneath his fingers.

Once he let his hand fall, Izzie's mouth immediately opened. "I'd love to! Where are we going to go?"

"How about I surprise you?"

"That would be perfect."

* * *

Around 3:00 Izzie made her way to Hannah's room for their afternoon visit. When she pulled the door open, she found the room completely empty, every trace of its previous inhabitants gone.

**

* * *

**

**A/N**: I can't say anything except wait for the next chapter, which if things go as they have been will be up in a day or two. A great big ginormous humungous thanks to my reviewers. I love you all, seriously. I also want to thank all of you who read this, which I'll be arrogant enough to assume extends beyond my reliable reviewers. I'm glad I can write something interesting enough to be read.


	13. The Impossible Kind Of Love

**Chapter 13: The Impossible Kind Of Love**

Izzie rushed to the nurse's station. "Excuse me! The patient in that room over there, room 304, where is she?"

"Just a second," the nurse said, flipping through files. "Hannah?"

"Yes, yes, that's her."

"I'm sorry, dear."

"What?" It wasn't a question of clarification, more an expression of disbelief. Even before the nurse confirmed her suspicion, Izzie knew. It was the look on her face, the tone of her voice. She'd used that same tone herself when consulting a patient's family.

"She passed away." Still when those words were uttered, all sound in the room dropped away. Izzie could only hear the beating of her own heart and the rush of air into her lungs.

Her voice lost its frantic screech and came out as a surrendering whisper. "When?"

"2:46."

So it was real. She was actually gone, gone in such a way that Izzie couldn't get her back again. But it didn't feel real. _If it doesn't feel real, can it still be real?_

Without another word, Izzie started walking down the hall. Her walk became a jog, her jog turned into a run, until she was sprinting across the linoleum floors of Seattle Grace. She dove into the bathroom and didn't even make it to the toilet before empting the contents of her stomach. With no intention of remaining crouched in a stall, there were far better places to hide, she stood. Immediately her head went swimming within itself, her vision tunneled and then even noise became inaudible.

When she woke up, she didn't recognize her surroundings, at least not at first. She was tucked underneath clean white sheets, someone was dabbing her head with a washcloth and two hushed voices were talking seriously towards her left.

At the sight of Izzie's eyes fluttering open, Meredith gasped, dropping the washcloth on her face. "You're awake."

"I didn't know I wasn't before," Izze croaked as Meredith lifted the washcloth.

Mark and Derek entered her field of vision. "You passed out," Derek said gently. All eyes glared at his statement. "I figured we should start with the basics," Derek defended, his tone miffed.

"How did I end up here?"

"I was getting to that. Bailey went looking for you after… She was going to tell you what happened. When she couldn't find you, she figured you must have found out on your own and that you might be in need rescuing; she just didn't know how right she was. But it was actually Addison who found you on accident. She paged us and that's pretty much what happened."

"So you know?" Derek nodded solemnly. "Who else?"

"No one." Izzie looked a little surprised. "The only reason Bailey even told me is because I'm your doctor."

"What?"

"When you passed out, you hit your head on the toilet paper dispenser." Izzie reached up to her forehead. Mark put his hand over hers and led it to the bump.

"Ouch," she said.

"Luckily that's the worst of it. We did a CT to check for bleeding, but every thing checks out. You're fine." Derek gave her a small smile.

"I wouldn't say fine," Izzie whispered.

"Can we have some privacy?" Mark interrupted.

Derek and Meredith glanced quickly at one another, but made no protest. The instant the door closed behind them Izzie burst into tears.

Mark wasn't sure how long she'd been crying when her sobbing finally began to let up.

"How?" She choked out.

"Multiple organ failure."

"I didn't know she was exhibiting signs of anything like that."

"You weren't her doctor."

"Was it…"

"It was quick. She wasn't in pain."

"Was she scared?"

"I wasn't there, so I can't say for sure."

"Then how did you know she…?"

"Bailey paged me after it happened. Her parents couldn't tell you. They weren't trying to hide it from you, but they couldn't see you. You understand why. So they asked Bailey to… you just happened to find out first, not the way they planned."

"There is no good way to get that kind of news." Tears continued to leak from Izzie's eyes as she spoke.

"No."

"I was so close, you know. I had her in my arms. I had her."

"I don't think it was a coincidence."

"What?"

"I don't believe in coincidences. She found you. You got to meet her, to see the kind of person she'd become."

"She wasn't even a person yet, she was still a child!"

"What happened to her… it _was_ unfair, but don't discount who she was. She was a person. Young, yes. But still a person."

"I think she knew, knew it was coming. I don't know why the second transplant didn't work."

"We don't know that it didn't or at least wouldn't have."

"What?"

"The chemo caused her organ failure. She'd been on transplant lists for many organs for a while. Her kidneys had stopped working, she was receiving dialysis treatments. Her body was fighting a battle on so many fronts…"

"Why didn't I know this?"

"Because you knew what mattered instead."

"What?"

"Instead of wasting your time finding out what her most recent regime of treatment was, you found out what she liked to do. You didn't learn about her disease, you just learned about her."

"I'm a doctor, I should have done something."

"She had a million doctors all looking out for her health. She needed someone just looking out for her happiness. You couldn't have done anything more for her."

"I could have been there."

"Her parents weren't even there when it started."

"Are you kidding me?! What kind of parent leaves their child all alone like that?"

"Everyone has to eat sometime. Or go to the bathroom. Or shower."

"At the same time?"

"Do you think Hannah wanted someone with her every second of every day? Don't you think it would have been harder on her if they were in the room losing their minds as their only child slipped away from them?"

Izzie began to cry hysterically again. Feeling painfully helpless, Mark took a seat on her bed and pulled her shaking body to him, an act meant to comfort himself just as much as comfort her.

"They're good people. It's hard to see that now. But they loved her the way you would have. This isn't their fault and most certainly isn't yours. I didn't get to know her like you did. And I know you didn't get to know her like you wanted to. But you did get to know her and from what I saw, she was a good kid."

"The best," she cried. "Why isn't love enough?"

"You told me it was and I believed you, I still believe you."

"Then why isn't she here?'

"I think that _is_ why. That kid was so loved. She had three parents who would have given her the world, who did. It wouldn't have been right if she'd stayed here suffering in a decaying body for you."

"I wouldn't ask her to."

"No, which is why it's okay."

"I'm not okay."

"I know. Give it time."

* * *

"I know you."

"I've never met you before." Hannah said, eyeing the man before her suspiciously.

"I don't think so, no. But I look at you and I see her."

"Izzie?"

"Izzie," Denny breathed the name like oxygen.

"She was my… mother."

"You're Hannah?"

"How do you know my name?"

"We were in love, Izzie and I. I am still, which is why I'm here."

"Why am I here?"

"Don't you know?"

Hannah could almost see a scene playing out before her eyes, Mark cradling Izzie, but there was no image, no sound, just a feeling.

"To say good-bye. I got to meet her. After all these years I got to meet her. I'd thought about what I'd say a thousand times over if I ever ran into my biological mother - the questions I'd ask, the lecture I'd give. But in the end, none of it mattered. I just wanted a hug."

"You did good."

"I think so." Her tone of her voice convened the worry that her words masked.

"She'll be fine," Denny said certainly.

"You don't think she's irreversible damaged?"

"She'll move on, but she'll never forget."

"It'd be easier if she did."

"I don't think she cares about easy," he reassured.

"I never got to tell her that I forgave her or that I understood."

"She knew. What about your parents?"

"I've worried about what would happen to them when this happened to me for so long. But now that it's actually happened, I know they'll be okay. They knew this was coming, even if they wouldn't admit to me. I knew it too though. I've known longer than any of them."

"How?"

"It's my body," she shrugged. "Sometimes the wrong things feel right and you just know it's meant to be."

"How was Izzie?"

Hannah glanced over at Denny, contemplating what she was going to tell him. "She's in love."

Denny didn't appear hurt or angry or even surprised. "Is he good enough for her?"

"Were you?"

"Touché," he laughed at the young girl's boldness.

"I can't imagine you'd think anyone was good enough for her. He'll make her happy though. He already does."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"It's good, don't you think?"

Hannah smiled, "Isn't it the best?"

Feeling the back of his neck warm, Denny took a deep breath, "It's time."

Nodding, Hannah asked, "Is this where we part?"

"Almost. We won't meet on the other side, but we can go in together."

"I'd like that. But I am capable of going by myself, you know.'

"Oh, I do know," he laughed, taking her hand in his. "Thank you," were the last two words he uttered as they disappeared.

* * *

Izzie had cried herself to sleep. When afternoon faded into evening, Mark made a decision to take her home. He didn't think staying in the hospital another night would do anyone any good.

He loaded up his car with the few things of hers he found in her locker and scattered around the room. When there was nothing left to pack, he carried her asleep down to his car. And after a short drive to his hotel, he carried her up to his room.

She woke in the middle of the night. For the second time that day she awoke wondering how she got to where she was. Although she recognized his bed, he wasn't in it. Reaching over to turn on the light, Izzie knocked something off the nightstand in the process. When light flooded the floor, she saw it was a manila envelope with her first name written in script across it.

She wasted no time in ripping open one side, spilling the contents into her lap. _What is this?_

There were three sheets of paper. One of them was stained with ink, the letters formed in the same writing that that appeared on the envelope. A letter. The next was a crayon drawing of a butterfly, a kind that had clearly been made up. It was mostly pink, but every color of crayon made an appearance somewhere on its body. The final piece of paper lying in Izzie's lap was also done in crayon, though it wasn't a drawing. The words were scrawled in a childish scratch and each line was numbered. It was a recipe, Izzie realized.

She returned to letter and read over and over to assure herself that she'd read it correctly. Had it not been for a soft clanking coming from another room, she wasn't sure if she'd ever stop reading it.

Izzie followed a soft light leaking in underneath the door to the kitchen.

"I was beginning to worry." Mark said when she appeared before him.

"What is this?" Izzie asked holding up the envelope.

"Her parents left it at the hospital for you."

Izzie nodded, she'd figured as much. "She wouldn't have kept her from me." Mark only raised his eyebrows in response, understanding her need to speak. "They are good people, better than me, better _for her_ than me. Still, I can't help but wish I'd had her all along." Izzie took a seat at the counter next to Mark. "I'm exhausted," she declared, giving him a sad smile. "Sorry I missed our date."

Mark chuckled, "That has every reason to be the farthest thing from your mind. But you can make it up to me. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"What I do everyday, work."

"No, I don't think so."

"Bailey _will_ let me."

"Of course she would," Mark said, no trace of disbelief evident in his voice, although he was thinking of what he'd have to do to force Bailey to let Izzie into an OR. "But we're not going to be in town for you to work."

"I can't leave Seattle _now_."

"You can and you should. You need to purge. So I'm going to take you for a long weekend to a place where you can do just that. I promise you won't miss anything here and we'll be back in time."

"I'm too tired to argue with you on this. But you're not going to have a good time. I'm not going to be happy. I'm going to be teary and miserable," she pointed to her swollen eyes, "and no fun to be around."

"This trip is not for me, it's for you. We're going to go away so you can purge your teary, miserable self."

She nodded, "As long as there's no misunderstanding."

* * *

**A/N**: From the very beginning of Hannah's introduction I knew she would die. I changed my mind about it so many times though before actually writing it. I'm not sure why, but I'm sure this is what I felt needed to happen. I'd thought about making the parents come between Izzie and Hannah, but I just felt that would have been too easy. It's too simple to make someone a villain. And I hope my little 'heaven' seen wasn't too freaky – I worried about that a lot, I know a lot of my friends hated the 3-episode drowning arc because of the afterlife part, but I loved it and I didn't want to pass up an opportunity to include Denny. Anyway, sorry it's a little shorter than usual, that's just how it worked out. Your reviews are greatly appreciated, I really enjoyed reading the speculation, it was fun to get people wondering. :)


	14. The Implicit Kind Of Answers

**A/N**: Sorry for the delay, I knew I wouldn't have time to write let alone post anything until the beginning of this week, but I definitely didn't expect it to take me this long. This chapter is kinda long and kind of a filler. Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 14: The Implicit Kind of Answers**

"How was the trip?" Meredith asked as Izzie took a seat in front of her locker.

"Well… it got off to a bumpy start."

"What?"

Mark took a seat next to Izzie as she growled, "I hate flying!"

* * *

"Stop thinking about it."

"I'm trying, but the more I think about trying to not think about it, the more I end up thinking about it. Even in thinking about not thinking about it, I'm ultimately thinking about it," Izzie sighed. "And I'm not even sure I don't want to think about it. Is it wrong to want to think about?"

Mark shook his head, "I honestly have no idea what you just said."

Izzie continued, "I don't know how to feel."

"What do you mean?"

"How am I supposed to feel? I lost something that I'd really lost a long time ago. I've said this good-bye already and yet saying it this time isn't any easier."

"You feel what you feel," he shrugged. "There's no right or wrong. It's just what it is."

"Shit," Izzie muttered as the plane hit turbulence, her knuckles turning white from her grip on the arm rests. "How much longer is this flight?"

"We're almost there."

"That wasn't an answer!"

"An hour or so."

"An hour is 'almost'?!"

"Izzie, this isn't that bad."

Tightening her seatbelt as the plane shook more violently, Izzie grumbled, "Not bad my ass."

"You look a little pale."

"Really?" She glared.

Mark took a deep breath. "Once upon a time, there was a prince who had everything he could ever want…"

"What are you doing?" Izzie asked, looking around at the other passengers to make sure no one was wondering the same thing.

"Shhh… one cold winter's night, a beggar on his doorstep woke him."

"Seriously, Mark, what are you doing?"

"I'm telling you a story," he said as if it were obvious. "Anyway… the beggar asked only for a place to sleep. But the prince would spare neither a bed nor the floor, and turned the beggar away…"

* * *

As the plane taxied down the runway, Izzie said, "Despite the fact that you totally stole the story from Disney, it was nice."

"I thought you'd like it." He smiled as they headed towards luggage recovery.

"How long does it take to get our baggage? I don't like waiting," she declared.

"If you didn't insist on packing your entire wardrobe we wouldn't have to."

"I wanted to be prepared."

"For what? We're only going to be here for three days," he said in disbelief.

"Well, you never know what to expect."

"I told you what to expect."

"Still…"

"What? You don't trust me?" He asked slipping an arm around her waist, drawing her body close to his.

"I do trust you, more than you'd ever believe. That's why I'm here."

"In the Caymans?"

"No, well, yes actually, but what I meant was here as in standing next to you."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Good."

"I wanted to tell you…"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say… there it is!" She scrambled through the line of people that had formed in a circle around the conveyer belt and grabbed her bag. When she returned to his side, she said, "See, this is the advantage of having colorful luggage."

"Mmmhmmm," he said mockingly.

"I'm serious, no other self-respecting adult has this bag, so…"

"Now that I believe."

"Shut-up. I like things that stand out," she said, shifting the shoulder strap trying to find a comfortable position, but failing miserably.

"I'll take it."

"It's okay, I can handle it."

"I'm sure you can," he said seriously. "But I want to carry it for you." He slid the bag from her shoulder and threw it over his own.

"Ready?"

"You?" Izzie nodded. "Okay then."

The arrived at the resort shortly thereafter.

"It's weird, driving on the other side of the road."

"You get used to it," Mark shrugged.

She gave him a doubtful look.

"It's not like we're going to be doing much driving, we're right on the beach." Izzie's mouth dropped open as she walked into the room through the front door and immediately stepped out the back door onto the beach.

"There's sand! Like right here," she said jumping back and forth between the tiled floor and the beach.

Laughter erupted from deep within Mark's chest as he watched Izzie's wonderment. She wasn't the first girl he'd brought here, but she was certainly the first girl that had reacted like this. Everything was new and exciting, everything fascinating. It was always like the first time with her. It was this, this one trait above all the others, that drew him to her. She was so innocent. _Well, not in that way_, he thought wryly. But the world was a playground to her, nothing was too simple to notice or enjoy. She loved everything. She saw the world that he wanted to live in and together they created it.

"I'm going to go lie on the beach."

"You don't have to go far."

"I know!" She declared happily. "But I want to go closer to the water."

She was in her bathing suit and out the door before Mark had blinked. "Don't you want a chair?" He called after her.

"No!" She called back.

He changed into swim trunks and joined her a few minutes later. As he sat down in the sand next to her, he made a face. "Why no chair?"

"I'm at the beach," she mumbled, turning over onto her back to see him. "Beaches have sand. Isn't that the point of coming to the beach, to play in it?"

"I don't like sand."

"Then why come to the beach?"

"Because I knew you'd like it."

"You could have brought out a chair for you or a towel."

"And miss this experience with you? Not a chance," he said falling onto his back.

"You said you've been here before."

"I have, many times. I own a timeshare."

"Why here? If you don't like the beach, why here? You basically live on it here."

"It's the best."

"You are an arrogant man."

He didn't deny it.

It was late evening when he finally convinced her to abandon her spot by the ocean to get something to eat.

"I'm not hungry."

"You are."

"I'm really not.'

"You just want more time on the beach. You have all day tomorrow too."

"And the next day."

"Maybe."

"What?"

"Later."

She wasn't about to let him get away so easily, but the waiter appeared then and she had no choice but to drop it.

* * *

He found her lying in the hammock outside their room when he finished showering.

"Did you get all the sand off you?"

"Not nearly well enough," he said, pushing the hammock, rocking it slowly back and forth. "What are you thinking about?"

Her lack of a response was an answer in and of itself, though it was not the one he'd been hoping for, it was the one he'd expected.

"I have no memories to look back on." He couldn't discern what her attitude about this was. "Just her first days and her last. Nothing in between.' It was clear to him that this thought had been plaguing her all day. "I… I…" Her voice was cracking, but not with tears. Concern and confusion etched across his face, Mark brought the hammock to slow stop. "I'm sorry," she said between giggles, "I'm sorry. It's just there's nothing there." Her laughter became louder and more sporadic. "I can only miss missing her. How ridiculous is that?" He was at a loss. Tears feel from her eyes, but from laughter or sadness, he wasn't sure. "Oh God, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry."

"I am."

"Why are you laughing?" He asked gently.

"It's not funny. I know it's not funny. Except it is, just a little bit. Either way, I can't help it."

"Clearly," he said not unkindly. "You can't change what happened all those years ago. You can miss her for being gone now, but don't miss her for being gone then. Come on," he said, dragging her off the hammock. "I'm sure you won't want to miss a moment of sun tomorrow. Let's get to bed so we can wake up."

* * *

"Thank you," she said over breakfast.

"They're just eggs."

"Not for breakfast."

"We're only here for three days," he tried again

"Not for bringing me here, but I should say thank you for that too and can't you just say you're welcome…"

"Okay, you got me. For what?"

"For tolerating all the weepy."

"You don't need to thank me for that."

"I do. You've been patient and… it's… it's been a lot. There aren't many people who would have bothered."

"Izzie, I love you. You never have to thank me for loving you."

She looked hurt, not at his words, but Mark definitely observed a sensitivity about her. "It's just sometimes, I think I don't deserve it."

"Ironic," He let out a little laugh.

She failed to see the humor, "What did I miss?"

"Everyday I wonder what _I_ could have done to deserve _you_. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't in this life."

She smiled at his deference. "Arrogant and unassuming, you _are_ hard to figure out. I wonder if I'll ever truly know you."

"You do. I can be difficult, I'll admit. But once you get past my rugged and confident exterior, I'm not that complicated."

She scrunched her nose, "I disagree. It's after I get past your 'exterior,'" she eyed him humorously, "that I find the complicated."

"Maybe you're right."

"Yeah?"

"I said 'maybe.' I don't know."

"I'm going outside," she announced, jumping up from her seat.

He found her in the same spot she'd occupied yesterday. "You don't want to go in the water?"

"In a little bit. I can't think while I'm swimming." He was going to say that that was sort of the point, but didn't.

The day was over too soon for both Izzie and Mark. They'd spent most of the afternoon alternating between cooling off in the ocean and drying off on the beach, Mark preferring the former and Izzie the latter. In fact, it'd taken more convincing to get Izzie into the water in the first place than Mark was mentally equipped to handle, so he gave up his attempt at verbal persuasion and resorted to the physical, grabbing her by the heels and dragging her into the surf. The angry shouts and fist waving that had immediately followed only seemed to make Mark more pleased with himself, though he did appease her pouting with a salty kiss.

On their final day Mark insisted they leave the resort and visit a few places.

"I just don't think I'm going to like anything better than the beach," Izzie reasoned, though she was already buckled in the passenger seat.

"Maybe not. But you can't go the Cayman Islands and not see these things."

"You said you'd bring me back here."

"I will."

"Why don't we see them then?"

"We will."

"But we'll have already seen them!"

Placing his hand innocently on her thigh, he retorted, "Some things are worth doing over and over again."

"You're evil."

"Then I'll be right at home where we're going."

"And where is that exactly?"

"Hell."

"_That_ I don't need to visit. I've been there," she said seriously.

"Then you'll be right at home too."

Izzie found the whole experience touristy, yet she couldn't deny that part of her, though she maintained that the part was very very small, enjoyed being able to say she'd been to Hell.

"I'm sending postcards to Meredith, Cristina, and George!" She declared, conviction mixing with embarrassment. "You want to send one?"

"You're sending one to O'Malley?"

"You think Derek would like one? Or Addison," Izzie giggled. "She _is_ Satan or wait what was it that she preferred… oh, ruler of all that is evil. She'd think it was funny, don't you think?"

"Why are you sending one to George?"

"I don't want him to feel left out."

"What?"

"If Meredith and Cristina both get one and he doesn't, he'll feel left out," she explained in exasperation.

"He'd probably rather be left out."

"No one wants to feel excluded."

"Izzie, don't you think he'd find it awkward? And what about Callie? How do you think she'd react?"

"I don't know. Honestly, I haven't talked to either of them since… I just haven't."

"Don't send one to George."

"Don't tell me what to do," she said distractedly as she addressed one postcard.

"Alright."

"Good."

"Don't send one to George and I will never tell you what to do again."

"Seriously?" She paused in her writing to look up at him. "I'm not negotiating here."

"Don't send one to George, _please_." She ignored his disingenuous plea and addressed the second postcard. Shaking his head in aggravation, he said curtly, "I'll be waiting in the car."

Izzie watched confusedly as he retreated out of the small shop. She finished addressing the postcards, penned a few short words and then sent them.

The car wasn't running and Mark wasn't in it when she got there. She climbed in anyway and a few minutes later he did too.

"Where were you?" She asked. "You said you'd be waiting in the car."

He chose not to answer her question. As he pulled out of the parking lot, she didn't press him for an answer and instead said not at all jokingly, "Hell is not a happy place." Again he didn't even acknowledge that she'd spoken. "I didn't send one to George. And you don't have to worry. I'm not trying to mess up his marriage. I never wanted to be that person. It's just difficult, you know? Our friendship will never be what it was before, I changed it permanently. But I still want to be friends and now I have to try to redefine what I destroyed. It's complicated. I want the closeness we had, not the intimacy, but the closeness. Callie never liked our closeness, even before I ever crossed the line."

When he felt that she was finished, he looked over at her and very simply said, "Enough." His tone wasn't harsh, his voice wasn't straining. "This wasn't about George. I don't care what effect your card would've had on him. I only care about the effect George would have on you as a result. I don't want him or his wife messing you up, got it? You have enough shit to deal with. You don't need him giving you more."

She was silent, chewing over his words.

"Oh, and I was in the bathroom."

"Huh?"

"Before, you asked why I wasn't in the car waiting like I said I'd be. Apparently the early morning seafood didn't agree with me."

"I warned you." she said.

"And that," he said refereeing to the triumph in her voice, "is why I didn't want to tell you. Do I ever get to be right anymore?"

"Do you even care? I thought you liked being wrong."

A schoolboy smirk played upon his lips. "I definitely enjoy being wrong."

* * *

The turtle farm was her favorite stop.

"I don't know what it is," she sighed, as she held the turtle up to her face.

"What what is?" Mark asked, standing a foot away from the tank.

"It's not like I've never seen a turtle before, but here I am absolutely awestruck by this little guy."

"Yeah, I don't know what it is either." He eyed the creature in her hands.

"This place is something special."

"It is _something_."

"What is the matter with you?"

"I want to go back to the beach."

"Seriously?"

"Haven't you seen enough of these?" he gestured all around him at the many turtle exhibits.

"I guess."

The look on her face made him balk. "What?"

"It's just… you've been acting weird."

"I am not."

"You are."

"Okay, so I'm strange."

"No, you're acting strange and I want to know why."

"I don't know. Let's just go home."

She nodded slowly, letting her question go unanswered. But she only let the issue end at that until after they'd piled into the car. "I've damaged you, haven't I?"

"What? No," he scoffed.

"I have. I've emasculated you with my girl problems."

"If you have a question about my manhood, it can answer for itself."

"No, no," she dismissed his surge of testosterone. "I'm not questioning your… whatever. I shouldn't have dragged you into this."

"You didn't drag me into anything. Things just happened. And you should know by now, I don't do anything I don't want to. If I didn't want to be in this, I wouldn't be. But you _are_ starting to piss the hell out of me. I don't want to keep telling you this."

"So don't."

"If I don't, will you remember it on your own?"

"Probably not."

"Then I have to."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"It's over, isn't it?"

"Almost."

* * *

"The flight home was so much more tolerable," Izzie exclaimed.

"She was drugged," Mark nudged her. Meredith just laughed as Izzie tried to stomp on Mark's foot, missing and throwing herself off balance instead.

"I hate flying!" Izzie sulked.

* * *


	15. The Useless Kind Of Planning

**Chapter 15: The Useless Kind Of Planning**

"I don't know what to do," Mark confessed.

"Do you want my advice?" Derek asked.

"Why do you think I'm having this conversation with you?"

"You should wait."

"Wait?"

"Yes, wait."

"What if I don't want to wait?"

"Why bother asking my opinion at all?"

"Would it be wrong to do it now?"

"I don't know."

"Would she be offended?"

"I don't know. Shouldn't _you_ know this?"

* * *

"So are you okay? I didn't want to ask when Mark was here," Meredith explained. "I want an honest answer."

"I'm… better."

"Did the trip help?"

"Not the way it was supposed to. I didn't really purge, I just kind of… forgot. The trip was a distraction. Now I'm not distracted, I'm the opposite of distracted."

"Focused?"

"Yeah, and not on what I'm supposed to be."

"Working will help distract you, I'm sure."

"That's just it. The only way I'm not thinking about it is if I have some sort of distraction!"

Meredith looked sorrowfully at her.

"What?!"

"That's how it works. You don't forget. You don't move on. Life distracts you, that's the _real_ moving on."

"That's what I want to do, that's what I'm trying to do!"

"Sounds healthy," Meredith nodded in approval.

"It's a bitch," Izzie laughed contemptuously.

"Yeah, it is," Meredith joined in her laughter. "But remember what I said, life will do the moving for you." The angry blast of Meredith's pager interrupted their conversation.

"Either way I'm moving."

"Welcome to adulthood," Meredith, who'd started walking backwards, called before turning around and jogging away.

* * *

"I'm sleeping," Izzie breathed.

"Very convincing," Cristina laughed sarcastically.

"No, seriously."

"Well then, you _seriously_ need to wake up."

"Cristina, go away."

"Bitter looks good on you, Barbie."

"CRISTINA!"

"Okay, okay…" Cristina sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Look, I don't know what happened. I just know something happened. I won't ask what 'cause I'm sure it's none of my business, but for what it's worth I'm sorry."

"How can you not know?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is Seattle Grace, there are no secrets."

"You would think!" Cristina said, disgruntled. "Anyway, your boy toy has an amazing surgery scheduled for this afternoon and I'd really really like to scrub in, problem is he won't give me the time of day."

"And?"

"And… if you wouldn't mine mentioning my name to him…

"I don't mix business and pleasure."

"Oh please, you're screwing an attending. You've destroyed any boundary between business and pleasure."

"That's the way to convince me to help you. Wake me up and bring up the fact I'm sleeping with my boss. Thanks."

"I want this… no, I need this surgery."

"Leave!"

"_Please_, Izzie."

"GET OUT!"

"Alright, leaving, Jeez."

* * *

"You owe me." Meredith just laughed heartily at Cristina's accusatory glare. "No, I'm not joking. I said 'please,' I begged, I actually begged," Cristina whined, raising her hand to head as though to see if she were sick.

"The team appreciates your personal sacrifice."

"Oh, shut-up. I don't even know why I'm being nice."

"This is your nice? Izzie needs our support."

"That girl always needs our support, besides I don't even know what for."

"I'm sorry but it's important that you do not know."

"The first rule of treatment is that you need a correct diagnosis. How am I supposed to stitch her up if I don't know what has happened beneath the surface?"

"I didn't know you cared."

"I don't," Christina said defensively. "And I don't know why we can't just tell Sloan."

"This is a girl's night. No testosterone."

"It's not like he'd be invited, he'd only participate in the plotting."

"Somehow I don't think McSteamy would… allow himself to be excluded."

"I can't believe I'm giving up surgery for this! Sloan was totally going to let me scrub in."

"Sloan has not once let you scrub in."

"I'm wearing him down!"

"Sure you are."

"Well what's to keep Sloan from asking Izzie to assist?"

"Shit."

"I guess your brilliant plan isn't so brilliant after all."

"Shut up."

"What are you going to do, Mere?"

"I'm thinking… okay, okay, we just have to give Sloan another intern."

"It's not enough. We need to make Sloan want another intern."

"Who are our choices?"

"Karev, O'Malley…"

"That's it?!"

"Besides us three, yeah."

"Well, we know Sloan won't let Karev in, he wants it too badly."

"So George then."

* * *

"Cristina wants in on your surgery."

"Yang? That's nothing new. She wants in on every surgery."

"She sounded really desperate. She woke me up just to ask."

"She woke you up?"

"Yup."

"No surgery for her then"

"Mark…"

He kissed her, his stubble tickling her cheeks. "Would _you_ like to scrub in."

"You know I hate plastics."

"And you know that if I didn't offer you my surgeries once in a while, it'd hurt your feelings." She smiled against his lips. _So true_.

"So who is going to scrub in?"

"Damn."

"What?"

"That only leaves Karev and O'Malley."

"And Meredith."

"No, she has an earlier surgery, it overlaps. Barely, but it overlaps."

"So what are you going do? Who are you going to choose?"

* * *

"Hey Cristina! CRISTINA!" Izzie yelled.

"What?"

"I told Sloan you wanted in on his surgery..."

"You did what?! But I woke you up!"

"No kidding, I remember."

"But I was obnoxious!"

"Yeah, I know. I'm used to it. Sloan said 'no' though. I'm really sorry. I tried. I didn't want you to think I didn't try."

"Oh my God, you are a freakin' doormat."

"What?! I can't help it if Sloan didn't want to use you."

"Not like that. You know what, never mind. So you got the surgery."

"No, I have no interest in plastics whatsoever."

"You are such a waste of surgical talent. So who?"

"Karev or O'Malley."

"Really? Perfect!"

"What?"

"Couldn't have worked out better than if we'd planned it."

"Cristina I thought you wanted that surgery?!"

"I did, damn it!" Cristina, her voice raised due to her honest aggravation, complained.

"She's lost it." Izzie shook her head as Cristina stalked away.

* * *

"I'm just saying it's soon."

"Too soon?" Mark stared intensely at Derek.

"You have to be the judge of that, you and her."

"It doesn't feel too fast."

"Maybe to you, but you're in the middle of it. Things look different from the outside."

"But the only opinions that matter are those that belong to the people on the inside."

"True."

"This is what I want."

"Right now. But are you sure that you're ready to say it's what you want forever?"

* * *

"Guys, where are the keys?" Meredith and Cristina looked at each other.

"We're going out," Cristina answered.

Izzie cringed when she realized Cristina's response did not include the location of the car keys. "What?"

"We're going to Joe's," Meredith supplied.

"I'm not going to Joe's."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm in no mood, Cristina."

"Exactly."

"I just want to go home, climb into bed, and fall into the beautiful oblivion we so rarely get to enjoy."

"Oh shut it. You are coming with us to Joe's where we're going to drown our woes with lots and lots of alcohol."

"What woes?"

"Boy troubles," Cristina tried.

"None of us has boy troubles."

"Then take your pick: family troubles, girl troubles…"

"Again, I'm missing what misery you are trying to drown."

"Alcohol's a distraction," Meredith smiled.

"Yeah, what she said."

"A dangerous one," Izzie said testily.

Cristina's patience has run completely out. "Look you're either going to come with us willingly or we will take you down and throw you in the trunk."

"Ha! Please, I could take you both in my sleep."

"Do you want to test that theory?"

* * *

"So Karev, O'Malley…"

"Dr. Sloan?"

"I hope you both fully appreciate this opportunity, because neither of you are likely to have it extended to you again."

"Yes, sir," George chimed.

"Why did you pick us both to scrub in?"

Mark thought about the variety of reasons he could give. There was the truth, obviously; there were the many possible lies; and then there was an answer that fell somewhere in between the two. "It's a teaching hospital."

"But you only needed one pair of hands," Karev probed the issue further.

"I didn't even need that."

"You're not going to tell us the real reason are you?"

"No."

"We're very different," Alex pointed to George.

"Yes, you are," Mark nodded, for the first time considering he may have underestimated Alex. _I still don't like him though._

"It's hard to believe, isn't it?" George looked at Alex in confusion, he hadn't been able to follow the conversation since Alex first caught Mark's less than honest response.

Mark looked through the two interns, a rueful smile on his face. "Not nearly hard enough."

* * *

"Okay, guys, seriously, I could totally file charges for this," Izzie whined from the backseat.

"But you won't. In an hour you'll be singing our praises," Cristina promised.

"I don't sing."

Meredith laughed in soft disagreement. "I specifically remember being treated to a midnight duet with George of _My Humps_ after his rendition of Sexy Back."

"I have no recollection of such an event, so it didn't happen," Izzie fired back.

"I like that rule!" Meredith cheered.

Cristina scoffed, "Of course you do, Mere. If that were true, then the number of men you've slept with would be cut in half."

"Not funny."

"We're here," Cristina spoke a little too loudly as she popped out of the car and opened the door to the backseat. "God, you look ridiculous."

"I'm not going into the bar in my scrubs."

"You should have changed then."

"I brought your clothes, you can change in the bathroom," Meredith said as she untied Izzie's pink stethoscope from around her wrists.

* * *

"I'm sure," Mark collapsed next to his friend.

"How can you be sure? You said yourself you never plan ahead, even a day."

Mark shrugged, "I'm not planning anything."

"On the contrary, you are planning your entire life." Derek paused before adding, "And hers."

"No, I'm not planning, I'm just protecting. The thought of someone else touching her, looking at her, even near her… no, I can't."

"You're possessive."

"So?"

"You were never one to get territorial."

"So does that mean you believe me?"

* * *

"I hate you both," Izzie grumbled between swigs of her beer.

"You aren't having fun?" Cristina slammed her glass drunkenly onto the bar.

"Loads. Can't you tell?"

"Joe, get the girl something stronger!"

"I don't want to get drunk. I'd like to wake tomorrow feeling like I have a fresh start and I can't do that if I'm hung over."

"Can we get some music?" Cristina requested.

"It's on," Joe gave her a disturbed look.

"Sorry I wasn't clear, can we get some real music. And turn it up, I want to be able to hear the damn words."

"Uhhh, help please," Izzie let her forehead fall onto the bar.

"What?" Meredith asked, watching in amusement as Cristina single-handedly turned the crowded bar into a dance club.

Shrugging her head in the direction of the door, Izzie whispered, "That guy, over there…"

"McDarkTallAndHandsome?"

"More like Mc-I'm-undressing-you-with-my-eyes-and-now-I-wanna-do-it-for-real."

"He's coming this way," Meredith observed.

"Hence the problem!" Izzie growled. "Save me."

"How do you know he isn't coming to talk to me?" Meredith asked.

"Oh please."

"Isobel Stevens!"

"I'm sorry, Mere. But seriously?" Izzie's words were muffled as she buried her face in her hands.

"And I thought _I_ was the vapid narcissist when drunk," Meredith, offended, grumbled.

"I am NOT drunk."

"Good. Then I won't feel like I'm taking advantage when you come home with me."

_McSleazy. Definitely McSleazy_.

* * *

**A/N**: So I've typed this note like a hundred times, but then deleted it before posting. Anyway, here it is… I'm wrapping up this story. I don't know how many chapters are left - I've been telling myself two, but that was like three chapters ago… Anyway, I've started another story, but it's still in the works (that's actually why it's taken me so long to post this – I couldn't write anything until I at least started the other story, it was driving me crazy.) Next update will probably be in a week – my inspiration has been running dry lately, I think it'll be ok now that I got that other story out of me – but I don't know for sure. Thank you so much for reading!!!


	16. A Selective Kind Of Hearing

**Chapter 16: A Selective Kind Of Hearing: **The Things We Want To Hear... And Those We Don't

"Oh you did not just hit on Izzie!" Cristina slurred.

The stranger regarded the woman whose face was inches from his own. "Are you Izzie?" He asked, addressing Cristina as though she were in a drunken stupor.

"Nope, that'd be me." Izzie regretfully raised her hand without looking over at the man.

"Then yes, I did just hit on Izzie. Is this seat taken?" He asked, indicating the open chair next to Izzie.

"Yes."

"Alright," he said as he sat down in it anyway.

"_I'm_ taken too."

"Alright," he said, motioning to Joe to bring him a drink.

"Joe, if you any compassion you will not serve him so much as a drop."

"Wish it were that simple," Joe apologized, pouring the man a scotch. "You don't get to ask questions about the kind of people you treat at the hospital. You can't discriminate. It's just business."

"And this business's name is Scott," he extended a hand to Izzie, who ignored it.

"Scott is drinking a scotch!" Cristina cracked up.

"My God, Joe, what have you given her and how much?" Izzie groaned.

"Nothing." Izzie shot him a penetrating look of disbelief. "Honest. It's our arrangement. She serves herself."

"She _is_ a control freak." Izzie shook her head and then turned to Scott who stubbornly remained next to her. "I'm sorry, but can you leave now?"

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Scott leered.

"Yes, actually," Izzie replied taking a long sip of her drink.

"She's married," Meredith offered an excuse on behalf of Izzie.

"I don't see a ring." He picked up Izzie's hand, which she pulled out of his grasp immediately.

"Don't touch me."

"I meant engaged," Meredith tried again.

"There'd be a ring for that too." _Damn it_, Meredith hit her fist on her knee.

"Okay so I'm neither. It doesn't matter. I'm still seeing someone," Izzie raised her hand, "and no, before you ask, it's not you."

"Come on, babe, I can show you a whole new world if you let me," he slid his hand from her shoulder all the way down her back.

"Seriously?" She squirmed from his touch and turned to him. "NOT interested. LEAVE!"

"Only if you come with me." With a perverted smile he reached out to her cheek just as a shadow darkened his own.

"I believe the lady told you to leave."

"Thank you," Izzie peered upwards.

"Who are you?"

"McSteamy!" Cristina toasted. Mark grinned at her inebriated greeting.

"All you need to know is that I'm with her."

"Maybe she wants someone else." Scott stood, though not reaching Mark's height, he showed no signs of surrender.

"Ummm… hello, I'm right here," Izzie piped in, annoyed that her presence, despite being the issue at hand, was being ignored.

"She doesn't," Mark answered for her.

_I could have told him that_, she thought. _As a matter of fact, I did._

"Maybe she does. Maybe she wants to try something new and just doesn't know it yet. I'll give her a taste…" Scott sidled up to Izzie.

"Okay, seriously?" Mark pulled his arm back and swung.

"DON'T" Izzie screamed. Startled, Mark swung wide.

"What?" Mark asked horrified.

"She wants me," Scott nodded knowingly.

"I don't." Izzie smiled tightly, giving a curt shake of her head. "Look, beat him to a pulp if you want. In fact, I'd find it quite satisfying, so please do. Just not" she took one of his hands in hers, "with your hands."

Mark looked into her eyes and took a hesitant breath. With one punch, Scott was sprawled across the floor, yelping in pain.

"JOE?! What the hell was that?" Izzie couldn't believe that Joe, her sweet Joe had just struck a man, even if he was McSleazy.

"Well, someone had to and seeing as everyone else here is a surgeon I figured it'd have to be me. Plus," Joe pointed to Mark, "he was getting ready to and I knew you'd be pissed if he did it after what you said."

Izzie shot an incredulous glare towards Mark, "Seriously?"

Mark in turn stared Joe down and then turned sheepishly to Izzie, "Iz, he was feeling you up right in front of me. I was just going to give karma a hand."

"By destroying yours?" Izzie signed, "Whatever, I'm not mad. I like that you're so manly." A soft laugh escaped Izzie's lips as she wrapped her hand around his arm. "Protecting the girlies with your muscles." Izzie laughed harder.

"Somehow I feel less manly now," Mark deadpanned.

"Sorry, I'm a little drunk. Blame him," she pointed to the crumpled figure of Scott. "His pervy hands drove me to the booze."

"Too drunk to drive?"

"Of course."

"Good, 'cause I'm taking you somewhere."

"Home?" Izzie asked hopefully.

"Not yet." Mark chuckled when she pouted.

"But I'm tired."

"Too bad."

"I've already been intern-napped once today," she sighed.

"What?" In response, Izzie directed her eyebrows towards Meredith and Cristina.

Cristina nodded her head enthusiastically at which Meredith rolled her eyes, turned to Mark, and confessed, "Yeah, okay, we kidnapped Izzie, whatever. It was Cristina's idea."

Mark bit back his laughter and settled for an amused smirk. "Saves me a very nasty conversation with Izzie about what she was doing at a bar."

Sliding his hand around Izzie's waist, he led her towards the exit. "We'll see you guys later."

"Would you stop speaking for me?" Izzie swatted at his chest. "I'll see you guys later!" Izzie called.

"Thanks Joe," Mark added before they disappeared outside.

* * *

"So where are we going that is so important it requires sleep deprivation."

"You're not tired."

"I'm an intern, it goes without saying that I'm tired."

"I just mean it's the alcohol."

"I'm not drunk."

"I know. But I wouldn't say that you're sober either."

"No, maybe not," Izzie relented.

"We're here," Mark declared, turning off the engine.

"And where is here exactly?" Izzie ducked her head and peered out the window.

"My house… or our house, if you like it."

"What?" Izzie gasped before vaulting out of the car. "How long have you owned this?"

"It's not official yet, but it'd only take a phone call. I wanted to make sure it was… suitable," he said for lack of a better word. "Do you want to go inside?"

Seemingly unable to form a coherent thought to answer, she let her head shake in affirmation.

The house was spacious, but not overly so. Even without being furnished, the rooms felt comfortable, warm even. She knew the moment she stepped foot inside that she was going to live here.

Despite her fascination with the character and design of the rooms, Izzie found her attention always slipping back to the character and design of the man showing them to her. The parts of the house that interested him became interesting to her. She studied his face more than the face of the walls, trying to decipher his reaction to the varying aspects of the building through which he was guiding her.

She finally gave voice to the question that had been plaguing her. "What about New York?"

"Well, obviously I'll have to go back…"

"What?" She screeched, interrupting his explanation.

"Let me finish. I'll have to go back to get some things in order. But New York was never home, it's just where I grew up. This will be home."

"Oh," she said, trying to hide the true extent of her relief, though she didn't know why.

"'Oh'? Is that all I get? 'Oh'?" He mocked.

"Can we stay here tonight?" Her question sent a flood of relief through him. _So this is it._

* * *

"Izzie… Izzie… Iz, wake up, sweetheart."

"Mmmhmmm, waffles?" She asked while her eyes remained shut.

"No waffles."

"Pancakes?" She mumbled again.

"No breakfast. Izzie, we're not at home, well actually we are. We're home. We're not at Meredith's though."

Izzie slowly sat up on the carpet, her hair sticking out in all directions. "We're home."

"Yes, Iz, we are and…" She looked over at him a truly content smile on her face.

"I like it."

"Izzie…"

"I really do."

"Do you like it enough to spend the rest of your life here?"

"What?"

"I don't want to move around. Being shuffled around isn't good for kids."

"What kids?"

"So this is it. When I move in here, I'm not going to want to move out."

"Move out? We're not even in yet and you're talking about out?"

"No out."

"Right, no out. Mark, what's the matter?"

"Izzie," he smiled at her innocence, wondering if she was being so intentionally or was truly ignorant of his dependence on her. "I want to wake up with you next to me like this everyday for the rest of my life. You're it for me. I want you. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?"

Izzie's eyes widened and her mouth fell open, "Mark…"

* * *

**A/N**: I know it's shorter than the others, but I think the reason I ended where I did is obvious. The next chapter is written, but what would be the fun in posting it right now? Embrace the suspense! I will post it soon (tomorrow evening sound alright?), but I wanted there to be a little waiting time, I'm evil like that.


	17. Chapter 17

"You're freaking out. Derek warned me. He said this was fast. He told me to wait, but I didn't listen. I just couldn't. I couldn't even wait until tonight. I had this whole proposal planned, but I couldn't even wait that long. I've never been a patient person. I guess I should have waited."

Izzie watched in astounded silence as Mark, talking faster than Izzie herself could ever remember talking, paced circles around her seated form. When it seemed he'd finished, he squatted next to her and regarded her intently, awaiting an explanation, an answer to some unasked question.

Instead she gave him an answer to one he had actually asked. "Okay, first of all, yes. Second of all, I'm not freaking out, though _you_ definitely are. I mean, my God, I think you've worn a path into the carpet and it's brand new." It was Mark's turn to stare in amazed silence. "Okay, I said, yes as in, yes, I'll marry you. You get that, right?"

Mark, motionless and still refusing to make a sound, continued to stare at her. Finally after a few more moments of agonizingly silence, he leaned in close, his nose against hers, his lips almost touching hers, his eyes darting between hers, and whispered, "You'll be mine forever?"

"Yes," was her simple, yet mesmerizing answer.

He kissed her then, gentle and soft, a kiss somewhere between a thank you and an apology. As her mouth melted into his, she swore she could actually feel the world rotating on its axis..

"You'll bear my children?" His lips left hers only for a second.

"Yes."

"You'll be naked all the time?"

"Y… what? No! Mark!" She playfully swatted his chest.

"Fine," he relented, only half-feigning disappointment. "But how about now?" He asked, his mouth recapturing hers as he guided her onto her back.

"Now's good," she smiled against his lips and let her hands slide up to grip his shoulders.

* * *

Some months later…

"Can you believe it?" Cristina, her limbs strewn haphazardly across a chair, popped a few munchies into her mouth.

"I can." Meredith's eyes followed Mark and Izzie as they moved in slow circles across the floor. Izzie's arms were wrapped tightly around Mark's neck, her head rested lightly against his chest. His strong arms enveloped her waist, holding her body to his, his check lay against her head, his nose taking in the flowery scent of her hair.

"You jealous?"

"I so am," Meredith admitted.

"Me too," Cristina grudingly confessed.

"When do I get my happily ever after?"

"You already have him," Derek whispered in her ear, as he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the dance floor.

"It's an it not a him," Meredith tried to protest, but Derek kissed her into submission.

"Admit it," he teased.

"Okay, fine. You're my knight in shining whatever." Derek smiled and kissed her again.

"Great! Now I get to be bitter girl all by myself."

"Or you could dance with me."

"I don't dance, Burke."

"I remember dancing with you in my apartment."

"I mean like _that_," Cristina pointed to the various couples moving at a glacial pace.

"I'll teach you," Burke offered her his hand.

"Okay." Cristina stood up before taking it.

"Really?" Burke looked at Cristina strangely, having anticipated a much stronger protest.

"I want my happily ever after!" She explained.

Izzie pulled back slightly so as to look at her husband. "Now will you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Mark smiled knowingly.

"Why this song? I agreed to it on the condition you'd tell me why."

"I remember."

"So why?"

"That night you got drunk…"

Izzie scrunched her nose at the memory, "I hope you're going somewhere with this."

"That night, when I dropped you off at home and plotted with Meredith to make sure I got to drive you to work the following morning, well, something she said or rather something I said or I don't know, something one of us said made me wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"If I was falling in love with you. On my drive back to the hotel, this song came on."

"What station were you listening to?"

Mark turned a little red, "Izzie, that's not the point."

"Oh, right, right," Izzie encouraged, but couldn't fight the smirk that appeared on her face.

"Anyway, this song came on and I knew. I wasn't falling in love with you."

"What?"

"I already _was_ in love with you." Mark could see the tears forming in Izzie's eyes. He didn't want to make his wife cry on her wedding day, so he hurried to finish, "Anyway, after that, every time I heard this song, I thought of you. That's why it had to be this song. It's your song." The tears had escaped her eyes and fell one by one down her cheek and onto his tux. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For making you cry."

"No, don't be," she sniffled. "I'm happy." Mark studied her carefully to make sure she truly was okay.

Suddenly, the sound of the Chief's voice rang out. "Okay, people, I need my hospital back!"

Adele rolled her eyes and quickly added, "This has been a wonderful evening, a truly beautiful affair. Richard is so glad the hospital could be used to host the union of two of our own."

"I'm serious," the Chief cut in. "We've got two ambulances on their way from a fire."

Mark turned his attention back to Izzie, "We're lucky he held his tongue as long as he did."

"I know," she giggled. "I've been watching him fidget in his seat for nearly an hour."

"There'll probably be burn victims."

"Yeah?"

"You wanna scrub in?"

"I hate plastics." She teased, giving him a mischievous grin.

"You wanna scrub in?" He asked again.

"Hell yeah." He pulled her against him, causing her feet to lift slightly off the ground.

Mark buried his face in Izzie's shoulder and whispered against her exposed skin, "I love you."

In response, as his head remained cradled in her neck, she kissed his jaw below his ear, and whispered back, "I love you."

"_I Knew I Loved You" – Savage Garden_

_I knew I loved you before I met you  
I think I dreamed you into life  
I knew I loved you before I met you  
I have been waiting all my life_

_There's just no rhyme or reason  
only this sense of completion  
and in your eyes  
I see the missing pieces  
I'm searching for  
I think I found my way home  
I know that it might sound more than  
a little crazy but I believe_

_I knew I loved you before I met you  
I think I dreamed you into life  
I knew I loved you before I met you  
I have been waiting all my life_

**Chapter 17: The Happily Ever Kind Of After**

**FIN**

* * *

**A/N**: Did you seriously believe she'd say no? This is my happily ever after here:) Anyway, I feel a combination of relief and disappointment now that it's over; I didn't expect the proposal to be the end, but that's how it ended up working out.. I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and if you're at all interested, I have another story in the works, it's also McStizzie (of course!) but it will be more inclusive of the other characters/couples than this fic was and it'll be a little more 'serious' (moment to laugh) ahem… I estimate I'll have the first chapter up in a week, maybe two at the latest (Harry Potter, you know). Anyway, thank you all so much for reading and to those of you who reviewed, you made my first experience posting a wonderful one!


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